Ghost Trick: Twisted Fates
by MangaBottle
Summary: Sissel is enjoying his new life as an ordinary house cat. But when Lynne, Jowd and Cabenela struggle to catch a vicious serial killer, Sissel decides to lend a hand - and gets more than he bargined for.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: A Tough Case

It had been over a year since that single, Fateful Night where all of our fates had changed. I had been happy living with the Good Detective, the Little Lady and the Beloved Mother in the ten or so years that had been born from night, with occasional visits from the Redhead and her Valiant Doggie, as well as the Loose & Lanky Lawman. Usually these visits were a reason to celebrate. But not tonight.

Tonight's meeting was quiet and grim. Only three of my extended family was seated, and they were all deep in thought; the Good Detective's face was lined with worry as he poured over maps, Loose & Lanky was not at all his festive self as he shuffled photographs, the Redhead tried to stay awake as she flicked through pages of reports.

The mood was tense. Finally, Loose & Lanky groaned and let his face fall to the table. "What is it, what are we missing heeere?" he cried out in frustration.

"Easy Cabanela," reassured the Good Detective. "He'll have to mess up eventually…"

"Sorry Jowd, but I'm with the Inspector on this one," grumbled Lynne, the Redhead, "It's only been a month, but this creep's already killed five people, and he's gonna strike again soon. We don't have time to wait for him to 'mess up'."

"Take it easy Lynne," said the Good Detective. "I've seen hardened veterans lose their heads over these sorts of cases."

"Jowd's right," Loose & Lanky sat upright and stretched his back, clearly trying to fight his exhaustion. "You're not a rookie anymore, but you still lack the long-time experience. We wouldn't think any less of you if you sat this one out, baby."

"No way!" Lynne got up and slammed her hands on the table. "I promised I'd help you guys catch this sicko, ok? The only way you'd get me off this case is over my dead bod-"

"Watch what you say, baby, you never knooow who might be listening," Loose & Lanky said warningly. "And considering the circumstances, even a simple figure of speech is in real baaad taste."

It was rare that Loose and Lanky was this serious, and Lynne knew it. Shocked, she sat back down without a word.

"I-I'm sorry, sir."

"Its fine baby," he took his fingers and began rubbing his temples. "I think we're all just tired…"

"You three still at it?"

All of us turned to face the Beloved Mother as she entered the room carrying a tray of homemade cookies and a jug of fresh coffee. These vital supplies were gratefully accepted, but the original trio were careful to keep Beloved Mother from getting too close to the table.

"Just what are you three working on anyway, dear?" she asked the Good Detective as he took the tray and jug off her hands.

"It's not the sort of thing suitable for friendly chit-chat, Alma."

"Gosh, is it really that bad?"

He gave a simple nod of the head as his reply. "Please do me a favour when you're done here, sweetheart. Could you go check on Kamila and make absolutely certain she's asleep? This is not the sort of thing I want her asking questions about."

Beloved Mother complied and hurried in the direction of the Little Lady's room.

By now, my curiosity was well and truly stirred. Stretching myself as I got up, I left the comfort of the sofa and made my way to the table where the three were seated, and began the rub myself against Lynne's leg. She looked down towards me, somewhat disinterested.

"Oh, hey Sissel."

I started mewing plaintively, hoping one of them would eventually pick me up and place me on their lap so I could get a look at the files and photos myself, but this only seemed to irritate them, and they were in no mood to bother themselves with me.

"Ugh, not now Sissel!"

"Scat!" said Loose & Lanky, waving his hands and me to chase me away. "Bad kitty – shoo!"

I hoped that the Good Detective at least would understand that I simply wanted to get up on the table without intending to cause trouble, but his mind was clearly on this case. He picked me up and took me towards the garden.

"Sorry Sissel," he said, as he put me outside. "But we're just all too busy tonight."

Perhaps it was too much to hope for the Good Detective to correctly interpret my behaviour. While he and I were among the few to retain our memories of that Fateful Night, we had lost the ability to speak with each other directly. The Valiant Doggie was another who had retained these memories and recent circumstances had reopened our line of communication. But he had been left at Lynne's apartment, and either way I doubt he'd have fared any better at communicating with my human friends as I had done. For a house cat like me, this is certainly frustrating. But I had retained other abilities that proved very useful in situations like this.

My 'Ghost Tricks' were one of the perks that came with walking the thin line that separates life from death. These days I had very little use for them; apart from one unfortunate incident involving the Valiant Doggie, tonight was the first time I had seen a need to use them since that Fateful Night.

Separating one's soul from one's own body at will is always an odd sensation, and don't think I'll ever really get used to it. Some humans claim to have achieved this, but I find these dubious at best. These humans say that when separate from their own bodies, they are able to float around as freely as birds. But I was restricted to whatever everyday items were left within my reach. As I left my unconscious body behind me, I made my way towards the garden hose, and from there I made my way through the kitchen wall into the dishwashing machine, though all the pots and pans, winding my ways through chairs and creeping up the display case and into the ceiling lights. I now had a full overhead view of the table, and could clearly see what my three friends had scattered upon it.

What I saw would've made my fur stand on end.

The crime-scene photos presented the same gruesome scenes – five mutilated bodies, various ages and both sexes, dumped like old trash. Their faces were contorted into hideous expressions, showing they had struggled to the very end just to stay alive.

"We know these few facts," said the Good Detective. "One; he kidnaps his victims from crowded places, two; he keeps them alive as long as possible while he tortures them at an as yet unknown location, three; once they're dead he dumps them in public places for everyone to see –"

"And four," said Lynne glumly, "he doesn't leave any evidence at the scene."

The three of them were quiet as contemplated this awful situation. I knew myself that if I still had my stomach with me it would be churning itself into knots.

Finally, Loose & Lanky took his coffee cup, took a huge gulp and said, "I hate serial killers on the best of days. But I what I reeealy hate is the smart ones."

The next morning, the Good Detective received the bad news – another body had been discovered, this time at the children's playground at Temsik Park. The Good Detective was pretty beat up about it, since it was a particular favourite with the Little Lady. Usually, I avoided getting involved with the work of my family, but since this case seemed to be causing them so much distress, I felt I should at least look around and see if I could pick one something they might have missed, and lead them in the right direction.

I used my Ghost Tricks to follow the telephone line, figuring that the Good Detective's friends wouldn't appreciate a cat messing around the crime scene. I'd left my body in a safe place back home so I wouldn't have to dig myself out of a backyard grave when I returned. One of the few disadvantages of being one of the living dead, I suppose.

When I arrived at the park's public phone, the police had already taped off the area, but there had also been a huge tent set up, covering most of the playground from public sight. I saw Loose & Lanky walk inside. Walk. Like a normal person. I knew that this couldn't be good.

I jumped from the phone onto a policeman's baton as he headed inside the tent. I honestly thought after seeing those horrible photographs, I'd be prepared for what I was about to see. How wrong I was.

This new victim, a middle-aged office worker by the look of him, had his limbs bent into impossible positions and threaded through the spinning globe, it was clear the killer would've needed to break the victim's limbs that in order to achieve this. A chain from the swing set had torn off and tightened around the victim's throat, so viciously that the metal of the chain had started to rip at the skin. The poor man's stomach had been sliced open, and it looked as if its contents were slowly oozing out. As awful as those photographs were, seeing it up close was much, much worse.

What really got to me though was this man's face – like the people in the photographs, it was twisted into an expression of pure and desperate terror. My mind felt numb as I remembered how the Good Detective had mentioned how this murderer liked to 'torture' his victims. Until last night I had never even heard of that word, but from what I understood of last night's discussion, torture was anything that a person did deliberately to cause a person as much pain as possible. And now that pain was permanently etched on that man's face, for the whole world to see. Lynne was already there, along with an older man with a pigeon on his head, who I recognised as the Professor. He was sticking some sort of metal rod into the victim's body.

Lynne was struggling to control herself, "Can you believe this creep? It's bad enough he's killing these people in the first place, but to display them like this!"

"It's as if he's mocking us," grumbled Loose & Lanky. "Which is all the more reason we've gotta keep our heads on straight."

"Yes, sir."

At this point the Professor pulled the rod from the victim and checked a gage that was attracted to it. "He's been dead six hours," he muttered.

Loose & Lanky let out a groan, "Only an hour before sunrise. How the heck does this guy dump a body in a place like this without anyone seeeeing him?"

I decided it was time for me to get a closer look at this victim. My plan was simple – I would use my Ghost Tricks to prevent the man's death, but I would also give him the opportunity to encounter the serial killer, just long enough for our victim to pick up any information helpful to the police. A living witness might just be the break they needed.

But that wasn't going to happen. It wasn't that I couldn't find a solution to help this man survive or escape. I didn't even manage to get that far. I had only just switched into the Ghost World when I noticed something very wrong: this man had no 'Core of the Dead'.

Despite this blow to my plans, I didn't think too much of it. After all, when I was first learning how to use my Ghost Tricks, I had been told that I would be unable to use them on anyone who had been dead for more than a day. I had never truly come across someone who had been dead that long, so I had I not known any better I might've considered that as a possibility in this case. But then again, the Professor had clearly stated that this fellow had only been deceased for six hours – what reason could there be to explain this, then? It was true that I had not used my Ghost Tricks for a while, and I knew from past experience that they could change over time. Had I simply lost my power to prevent death?

I wasn't contemplating this puzzle for too long though, as my thoughts we interrupted by a cry from outside.

"Hold it right there, ya punk!"

That was the voice of the Good Detective, and he did not sound pleased. Just about everyone in the tent rushed outside to see what was going on, including Loose & Lanky and Lynne, although the Professor showed no interest and chose to stay behind. I wanted to see what was going on, so I hitched a ride on Lynne's notebook.

The Good Detective was mad alright, and it seemed to be directed mainly at the young man he was holding in a very tight headlock. The young man, probably about Lynne's age, was a brown-skinned scrawny-looking fellow with messy hair and darks ring under his eyes, wearing a faded denim jacket over a red tee-shirt, a pair of stained cargo shots and flimsy sandals, with a sizable camera hanging from his neck. He was struggling desperately against the Good Detective, but was it an uneven match.

"I just got here," the Good Detective huffed, "when I caught him snooping around…!"

Lynne's eye's narrowed, and she looked the Scrawny Fellow straight in the eye and growled out a name, "Reynard Charivari. What a surprise…"

Scrawny stopped struggling and gave a huge grin, "Well, you're looking good, Linny-"

"That's Officer Lynne to you, you louse!"

"We've warned you before, kid," said Lean & Lanky, folding his arms and glaring at the Scrawny Snooper, "this is a crime scene – unless you're a cop it's a noooo-goooo zone."

"Aw c'mon guys, whatever happened to freedom of the press?" Scrawny whined.

"There's a time and place for that," snarled the Good Detective, keeping his grip. "And it sure as hell ain't here!"

"Hey, I've gotta eat too pal. If I don't get a scoop on the Twister…!"

"The what?" Loose & Lanky's eyes were bulging in horror.

"The Twister – that's what we're calling this guy! Geez, don't you read 'Tough Truths'? We've got a great celebrity section!"

Loose & Lanky was back to rubbing his temples, Lynne was wearing an expression as if she'd just been slapped across the face with a dead fish, and the Good Detective looked as if he wanted to rip off Scrawny's head. I quickly got the feeling that this Scrawny Snooper was the kind of guy who didn't quite know when to shut up.

Finally, the Good Detective grabbed Scrawny by his shirt collar and started dragging him towards the police line.

"Aw, gimme a break, the chief's gonna have my keister if I don't get results. Hey, I know – you guys give me the exclusive scoop and get y'all a life-time subscription, eh? I'll even put yer faces on the front page and everythiii-woAOH!"

The Good Detective had literally thrown Scrawny back over the police line, and I winced slightly as he landed with a thud on the other side. The Good Detective dusted himself off and stormed back towards the tent.

"Jerk," growled Lynne.

"You heard he said, right baby? The Twister – holy cow."

"This day keeps better and better," groaned the Good Detective. "I'd promised Kamila I'd take her here after school today…"

"They've given him a naaame, Jowd. It's never good news when they get a nickname…"

"I hear you, Cabanela… knowing that they're getting famous just makes things worse…"

I could hear the frustration in the Good Detective's voice, and I knew that I wasn't getting anywhere in helping them by just sticking around here eavesdropping. I must've zipped all over the park looking for something, anything that I might lead the Good Detective and the others to, but nothing jumped out at me and I soon came to the unpleasant realization that I had no idea what I might be looking for. I finally settled at the teeter-totter, frustrated.

Then the swing started to move.

I was certain that there was no wind. I looked towards the big tree just to be sure – not a rustle. It couldn't be, I thought to myself. There were only two ways that one could receive the Powers of the Dead - one had been removed for here long ago and locked away safely in some vault. The other was contained within my own body, back at home, and as far as I knew no one had perished within its presence. But there was no doubt that the swing was moving on its own, and I simply could not dismiss this. I switched into the Ghost World, just to be sure.

Sure enough, a flickering blue flame was dancing on the seat of the swing – a soul with Powers of the Dead. My mind was swimming with the shock of this discovery, but at the same time I felt that there may be a glimmer of hope, that perhaps I had finally found a clue to the identity of the Twister. After all, who wasn't to say that this soul didn't belong to the poor officer worker hidden in the tent?

I wasted no time in leaping towards this wandering soul, eager for any information they were able to pass on.

"Hello?" I called out to it, "Who are you? Do you remember what happened to you?"

The soul did not take on a human form as I expected, but instead remained as a blue flame.

"That's odd," I thought to myself. "It shouldn't be unconscious if it's made it this far."

"Who's there?" came the curt reply. "Who's speaking to me? Show yourself!"

I had forgotten that thoughts lost their privacy in the spirit world, so I was caught by surprise. I quickly recovered my senses, and waved a ghostly paw at this strange new spirit.

"Um, I did."

The ghost wavered a bit as if it were about to transform. A most peculiar face began to appear – a pair of staring white eyes, a bulbous red nose, thick black eyebrows with a matching moustache and a downturned mouth. This strange, cartoony face gave me a quick look over, its blank eyes narrowed in suspicion. Finally, he huffed, "What a joke. You honestly believe you can fool me to thinking a cat can talk?"

"Well, I'm not actually talking. It's more like our thoughts are being broadcast to one another – that's how it works it the World of the Dead."

"World of the…? World of the WHAT?"

"World of the Dead," I repeated, feeling a little annoyed.

"What the hell is this? Where are we? Why are all those people over there ignoring me?"

"Um, well," I tried to pick my worlds carefully as a rather uncomfortable thought came into my mind. "I'm not quite sure how to tell you this, so I'll just say it – you're dead. This is the World of the Dead and right now all I'm looking at is your ghost."

There were a few uncomfortable moments of silence.

"Well then," I continued, "we should start by trying to figure out who exactly you a-"

"THIS IS RIDICULOUS! I have never been treated so shamefully in all my life! I am not dead and if I find you, boy, I swear you will regret it!"

The spirit jumped and sped off in the direction of the main road.

"Wait!" I called to it, "let me explain!"

But it had attached itself to a passing car and sped off before I could stop him.

After that unpleasant encounter, I felt far too frustrated and dejected to continue the hunt for clues, so I simply jumped down the phone line and returned home to my body. The Detective arrived home not long afterwards, and I could tell that he hadn't fared much better in his investigations despite his best efforts to remain cheerful in front of the Beloved Mother and the Little Lady.

As I drifted off to sleep that night, two questions were burning in my mind – what had become of that man's core? And where had that cantankerous, Toon-Faced Spirit gotten its powers?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Old Friend

The next week or so were some of the most frustrating days of my life, as I spent most of my time raiding the Good Detective home office, shuffling through phone books and old case files trying to find the whereabouts of the one person who would be truly helpful to my cause. On this particular day, Lynne had come to visit, but this time she also brought the Valiant Doggie, Missile, along. Due to a certain incident with a stray lawnmower about a month ago, I had managed to re-establish a connection with Missile and was able to talk to him freely in the spirit world. I was glad for someone on who I could ease the burden of my mind.

"But I don't understand," said Missile, looking up at me as I scaled the filing cabinet. "Why is this Mr Twister going around hurting these people?"

"I don't know," I replied as I tried to pry open a drawer. "Lynne and the others don't seem to know either."

"Maybe Mr Twister was angry with them."

"Well, Lynne and the others seem to think that the Twister has never met these people before he kills them – he picks them off at random."

Missile was quiet for a while as he thought about this. "Was there really no Core on the man there?"

"Yeah, at first I thought I might've lost my ability to return to four minutes before a person's dea-whoops!" I nearly slipped here, "a person's death. But the next day I found a bird that had flown into a window, and I was able to go back and prevent its death just fine."

"That's strange."

"I know, so then I went to the city morgue, and tracked down all the other victims in this case," I continued, climbing to the top of the cabinet. "Not one of them had a core."

"Maybe they were just dead too long?"

"The first guy I saw had only been dead six hours, but I wanted to make absolutely certain. So I checked all the other bodies there, and ALL of them had cores."

"Really?"

"Yeah. The older bodies seem to be missing their souls, but even then there's always a core." I Tricked the cabinet lock open and began sifting through the files with my paws. "The only exception being the victims of the Twister. That can't be a coincidence."

"And what about that ghost ya saw?"

"I dunno, I haven't seen him again."

"He was the ghost of the dead man that was there, right?"

"Maybe, but I can't say for certain." By now I had reached the last of the papers, and I still hadn't found what I was looking for. I slammed the drawer shut in disgust. "Ugh! He's not here either!"

"Can I help you look for him?"

"Well, that's great of you to offer and all but… can you read?"

Missile hung his head silently for a few moments, and then gave out a yelp, "When did you learn to read, anyway?"

"I've taught myself over the years," I replied awkwardly.

"I wanna help Miss Lynne! It's not fair!"

"Well… Kamila's mother thinks I'm just making a mess when I'm in here – perhaps you could keep a watch out, give a yelp if she's coming, maybe distract her?"

"Oh yeah! I can do that easy-peesy!"

"Thanks Missile, I was really starting to hate that broom."

I finally found his name among the Good Detective's files. I hadn't seen my Old Friend, the Man in Red, in over a year, or ten years, depending how you look at it. Well, not since that one night that changed our fates, anyway. Truth be told, I had always hoped our paths would cross again one day, but I had hoped it to be under better circumstances.

I had decided that it would be best to remain in my physical form for this meeting, due to the strong emotions that were likely to be brought up. As a result so the trip took longer than usual, I even got run over by a bus at one point, but the Temsik fragment within me meant that this was merely a minor inconvenience.

I eventually arrived at the apartment complex where he lived. I sat outside for while, trying to think of a way to let myself in when I heard a rasping hiss from behind me. I turned around and found myself face to face with a huge ginger tomcat, a huge scar in place on its right eye. Behind him were half a dozen or so other cats of various shapes and sizes, but all of them looked as vicious as the next. My feline instincts told me that the body language of these cats, especially the ginger tom, said one thing very loud and clear – we're bigger and stronger than you are, and you're in our territory.

Well, I didn't come all the way out here to start fight! I don't think I'd ever made such a mad dash for freedom. But my body was still that of a tiny kitten, while these alley cats where all fully-grown, and I found that they were gaining on me at an alarming rate. I knew I couldn't be killed or injured but still, it was an unpleasant situation.

I was running so fast I guess I didn't exactly where I was going, for I eventually ended up crashing into a bicycle, getting myself tangled within the spokes of the wheel and knocking its rider to the ground. Unable to move, I could only watch in dismay as the ginger tom leapt at me, its fangs bared in a snarl and its claws ready to slash.

That's when a rolled-up newspaper flew out of nowhere, knocking the ginger away from me. I looked in the direction the newspaper to see who had saved me – a young woman, with long black hair tied into two thick braids, providing a frame for her large brown eyes.

"You picking on others again, Outlaw?" she scolded. She gave another warning swing of the newspaper. "Go on, shoo!"

Never mess with a lady swinging a newspaper. Outlaw and his cronies turned tail and ran. As they left, the woman knelt down towards me and took me gingerly in her arms. She brought me up close to her face, so our noses where almost touching.

"Now what is a little fellow like you doing out here all on your own?" She opened the top buttons of her jacket and slid me inside, and pulled the jacket back over me to keep me warm. "You can home with me, ok?"

While I appreciated the sentiment, I was panicking slightly since I needed to get to his house, but I relaxed a little when she headed into the apartment complex where I knew him to live. I was figuring how to make my escape when the woman spoke again.

"I know I promised not to bring home any more strays," she said. "But you look like you have a home, so I'm sure Yomi won't mind letting you stay until your family can come get you."

Yomi? I knew that humans would often refer to each other with shortened versions of their names as a way of expressing familiarity with one another. Could this woman possibly be referring to him?

It just got spooky when she got off the elevator on the exact same floor as his. But then she stopped in front of the door bearing the number of his apartment, reached into her pocket, and took out a key. I realised, as she opened the door and walked inside, that this woman could only be one person.

She sat down on the couch in the middle on the room, took me out from under her jacket and began to check me over.

"Well, you don't seem to be hurt in any way," she said. She ran her delicate fingers on the red scarf tied around my neck. "Someone's probably missing you about now. Let's see if you have an identity tag…"

She found it, and studied it for a moment with those deep brown eyes of hers. She was silent for a few moments before she spoke again.

"So your name's Sissel, then," she smiled kindly at me. "Isn't that funny – that's my name too."

He wasn't there when the Fiancée invited me into their home, so I had a look around while I waited for him. It was a modest studio apartment, quite unlike the suburban home of the Good Detective and his family. The furnishings were simple and bare, and it pained me little to think of him living in such meagre circumstances. But the Fiancée didn't seem at all bothered by her surroundings, and turned out to be the most gracious hostess, treating me to a dish of warm milk for which I really appreciated.

"It's a shame, really," said the Fiancée, as she sat beside me, "I'd like a little kitty like you, but the policy on pets in this building is so strict."

This small talk was interrupted when the phone suddenly rang. I was surprised when the Fiancée refused to answer it, giving it nothing more than a quick glance and waited until it rung out.

"Anyway," she continued. "I'm sure your family must be missing you terribly by now –"

Once again she was interrupted by the sound of the phone. She got up, irate, and practically tore the receiver from its handle.

"Hello?" she said as calmly as she could manage, but I could see she was angry. "Hello? Who am I speaking to, please? What do you want?"

There was a tense moment as she held the receiver to her in silence. Finally, she gave a sigh of frustration and hung up.

"Some people," she muttered. "Don't they have anything better to do?"

Looking back at it now, I really should've used my Ghost Powers to trace the call, as it would have saved so much heartache in the long term. But I was focused too much on the reunion with my Old Friend, and I honestly had no way of knowing the terrible consequences of my error.

From then on, things went on without any incident and I must admit I thoroughly enjoyed the attentions of the Fiancée. Finally, at around 10 pm, the door was unlocked from the outside and it creaked open. I strained to catch a glimpse of him – that same red suit, those dark glasses, and that shock of blonde hair.

The Fiancée's reaction was pure joy, as she shot up from her chair and rushed toward him.

"Yomiel!"

I swear she could've knocked him right over, the way she threw her arms around him. He laughed, removing his sunglass as he returned her embrace, revealing his fierce blue eyes.

"Everything ok while I was gone?"

"Yes, of course. Oh, I've got some smoked salmon ready; just let me serve it up…"

"You know what," Yomiel grabbed hold of the Fiancée's arm and pulled her close towards him. "I don't feel like smoked salmon tonight…"

"Oh. Well, in that case there's the curry from last night…"

"That's not what I mean…" he lent in, nuzzling her on the neck and wrapping his arms around her.

The Fiancée's face went bright scarlet and she tried to wiggle free. "B-but…! What about dinner…?"

"Not hungry…" was Yomiel's reply, slowly sliding his hand up her thigh and beneath her skirt.

At this point the Fiancée stopped resiting, and Yomiel leaned forward and placed his lips upon her own. Still locked together in this manner, the pair made their way towards the couch, and the Fiancée fell back into the seat with Yomiel gently lowering himself on top of her.

I could see where this was going, and quite frankly I didn't have the time for it. I leapt up on the arm of the couch and bent down close to Yomiel's head, and mewed into his ear. He jumped up with a yelp of surprise and fell off the couch, landing head first with a thump. I admit I felt a bit bad for ruining the moment for the two of them, but I had important business to attend to.

"Wh-what the hell?" Yomiel sat up and rubbed the back of his head.

"Yomi!" the Fiancée got down from the couch and knelt down beside him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm ok, but," he turned his glance towards me, "Sissel, the landlord warned us about taking in strays."

"Oh, he's not a stray, he just can't find his way home," she picked me up and brought me over towards him. "Here Sissel, this Yomiel, my husband."

Yomiel's eyes widened as he heard my name. "What'd you just call him?"

"Sissel, that's what it says on his tag. Isn't that cute how we have the same name?"

Now was my chance. I entered the Ghost World and reached out to Yomiel's Core, which had remained with him from that Fateful Night.

"Hello, Old Friend," I said to him. "It's good to see you after all this time."

"Si-Sissel?" Yomiel replied in shock. "I don't understand – y-you're not dead!"

"Yeah, I got hit with the Temsik fragment that day, so I was able to retain my powers."

Yomiel was quiet from a few moments. "It's great to see you again," he said, "but, uh, your timing was pretty bad."

"Sorry about that, but I had no choice. I'd like to say I came here on a social visit, but the truth is I have an urgent favour to ask of you."

"Well, uh… I'm not sure I understand."

"You and Detective Jowd are the only humans to remember what happened that night," I replied. "But the act of preventing your death meant that every other death that night never came to be, so Jowd's core is gone and I can no longer speak with him. But right now he and the others are working on a very hard case, and they're getting nowhere with it."

"And what, you did find something?"

"Yeah, but it's not something I can show them myself. Please Yomiel, I need you to contact Jowd and repeat to him what I'm about to tell you now…"

I left out certain details, such as the Twister's methodology, mainly because the Good Detective already knew this information. I simply told Yomiel what to be known – the victims of the Twister lacked cores, and for some reason there had been a ghost with Powers of the Dead at the last crime scene. Yomiel listened patiently as I told him my story, and then I returned to my body.

"Yomiel?" the Fiancée looked at her husband with concern. "Yomiel? Are you all right?"

"Huh?" Yomiel looked towards his wife.

"You zoned out there for a second."

"Oh, uh, just tired I guess."

"I bet you haven't eaten anything since breakfast this morning."

"Well uh," he looked a little sheepish, "I had a bag of pretzels and some juice at around lunch time…?"

The Fiancée shook her head. "You're not going to help at all us if you keep over doing it." She got up and headed for the kitchen, "C'mon, I'll warm up that salmon."

Yomiel got up to follow his wife, shooting me a quick look as he did. My heart sank as I saw the worry on his face. This was the second reason I had held so much back from Yomiel. He had finally escaped the darkness of the past, found his light, and I wanted nothing more than for him to be happy with his new life. I felt a deep guilt for having come and interrupted Yomiel's quiet happiness, obligating him to get involved in something so terrible. Yomiel was the only human I knew who had a Core of the Dead, and unless I could think of an alternate means communing with the Good Detective, I feared that I might risk causing Yomiel serious harm.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Chasing a Lead

The next morning Yomiel called the Good Detective's house to inform him of my surprise visit, and arranged for a suitable time for the Good Detective to come and collect me. About two hours later there was a knock on the door, and it was with some anxiety that Yomiel went to answer it. I couldn't say I blamed him – the last time these two men had met, Yomiel had nearly lost himself to bitter loneliness and hatred. While that fate had been erased, the painful memories still remained. But he opened the door nonetheless, and politely greeted the Good Detective.

"Sorry to make you come all this way," said Yomiel. "I would've brought him over to you myself, but I don't have a car."

"That's fine," replied the Good Detective. "I'm just pleased to hear the little fella's safe."

He noticed the Fiancée standing in the middle of the living room.

"Oh," Yomiel took her by the hand and brought her over to the door. "This is Sissel – my wife."

"Sissel, eh?" the Good Detective looked towards me, "What a coincidence."

"Pleased to meet you, Sir," the Fiancée bowed slightly,

"Since you've gone to all the trouble to come here," Yomiel continued, "could I perhaps offer you a coffee or something?"

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly trouble you…"

"It isn't any trouble at all," replied the Fiancée with a smile. "I know our home's a little shabby, but you should at least rest a while before you head back home."

"Well," the Good Detective grinned. "When you put it that way, how could I refuse?"

The Fiancée went into the kitchen to prepare the refreshments while Yomiel sat on the couch, and the Good Detective sat on the armchair across from him. I sat myself on the floor between the two of them. With the Fiancée preoccupied, the two men now felt it safe to drop their façade.

"It's been a long time," said the Good Detective quietly. "How have you been?"

"We have our up and downs, but truthfully I've never been happier."

"You sounded serious on the phone."

"Sissel came here to ask me to pass on a message to you, about your case."

Good Detective leaned forward slightly, turning his head towards me. "Sissel knows something?"

I mewed as a way of confirmation.

"He says really important," Yomiel looked anxiously towards the kitchen, where the Fiancée was still busy with tea and coffee. "But it's not something I want to discuss here…"

"Yes, of course. Here," he took out a pen and a business card, scribbled something on the back and handed it to Yomiel. "I think this a suitable time and place for us to 'accidently' bump into one another."

There was a moment of uneasy silence.

"I'm sorry you have to get involved in this," said the Good Detective finally.

"It's ok," replied Yomiel. "It's the least I owe you two for giving me a second chance."

At this point the Fiancée came in with a tea tray and the two men went back to pretending they didn't know each other. They engaged in a little polite small talk for a while, but once the Good Detective had finished his tea, he picked me up and made his way to the door.

"Well, thank you for everything," he chortled. "But I don't want to overstay my welcome, so I suppose this is goodbye."

"I hope we didn't take up too much of your time," said Yomiel.

"Nonsense, I had a lovely time," the Good Detective stepped out the door and into the hall. "I wish you the best for the future, both of you."

"It was a pleasure, Mister Jowd," said the Fiancée.

As the door shut behind us, my sharp ears picked up the Fiancée's voice; "It's strange, but I think I've the name Jowd somewhere before…"

Lynne and Missile had come over for another visit when the Good Detective and I got back. Once again, I was glad for Missile's company and felt obligated to fill him in on my progress.

"Yomiel will be meeting with Jowd later to pass on what I know so far," I told him. "My main problem now is if Jowd can actually make use of this information."

"You can help him out, right?"

"Yeah, but since Jowd's got no core, communication is going to be hassle. I don't want Yomiel getting dragged into this mess. Besides, I have no idea where to look next, anyway."

"What about that ghost you saw last time?"

"That would be nice, but I have no idea where that guy disappeared to. It's not like he's just gonna drop outta the sky or somethi-"

"HEEEEEEELP!"

The sudden cry caught the attention of me and Missile, but the humans didn't even seem to notice. Not to mention that crusty voice was vaguely familiar…

"No way," I said to myself. "It couldn't be."

I jumped up and dashed outside to towards the front door, nearly tripping the Little Lady on the way, with Missile in hot purist.

"Daddy, Sissy's running away again and Missile's gone with him."

I knew I was in big trouble for this, but I simply couldn't let this opportunity pass me by. Outside, I scanned around frantically for where the voice scream had come from, but couldn't sense anything. Then –

"Somebody HELP! Get me down from here!"

Right above me! I looked upwards towards the sky but all I could see was a crow flying overhead… but wait, was that-? Yes! Something in its beak! On a hunch I swapped into the Ghost World.

It was a fair distance off, but there was no mistaking that distinctive blue flame, or that bossy tone of voice.

Missile slid to a stop beside me. "What is it, Sissel?"

"It's him!" I cried ecstatically, "The Ghost from the murder scene! He's here!"

"Really? That's great!" Missile yipped with glee. "But um, how're gonna get him if he's way up there?"

My hopes were smashed like a ceramic vase hitting a concrete sidewalk.

Meanwhile, Lynne and the Good Detective had caught up with us, panting and out of breath.

"What has gotten into you two?" Lynne scolded as she lifted me up. "Especially you, Sissel! I don't wantcha hanging around my dog if you're going to be a bad influence!"

"I uh, guess it must be this warm weather…" replied the Good Detective, but I was sure he had figured that I was following a lead on the case.

"Wait a sec," Missile yapped suddenly, "Sis, take another look!"

Indeed, the crow seemed to be struggling in midair – unbelievable! The Toon-Faced Ghost was putting up a fight, manipulating whatever was it had possessed to try and scare off its captor. Finally the bird gave in and released its grip, and the possessed item began to plummet to the ground about a few blocks from where I was standing, its resident ghost shouting obscenities all the way.

"Hold on!" I called out, flailing madly to get free of Lynne, and scratching her face in the process. "I'm coming for you!"

I leapt out of Lynne's arms and landed on all fours on the sidewalk, running like crazy towards where the item had fallen.

"Wait for me!" yapped Missile, hot on my tail.

"Hey! Get back here, you two!" fumed Lynne. "What is up with them today?"

My feline athleticism served me well here, turning tight corners and leaping over fences with ease. Poor brave Missile, on the other hand, was not built for such strenuous activity and struggled to keep up, I even heard the poor little guy slam into a trashcan at least once or twice.

I was getting close; I could feel it in my gut. I reached the final corner, turned it and-

Oh fudge.

It was Toon-Face all right, stuck inside an old pair of false teeth sitting just a few inches away from me. But in that dead-end alleyway was a pile of overflowing trashcans, covered in packs of mean-looking alley cats. And who do you think would be at the top of the pile, his one good eye glaring right at me, his dirty orange tail swishing madly in disapproval?

Once again, I had stumbled into Outlaw's territory, and he was pissed. He stood up, daring me to take just one step further. The other cats surrounding him hissed and spat, their tails erect and their fur on end.

"Isn't anyone going to help me?" wailed the false teeth. "This place stinks!"

I swallowed hard, braced myself and tried not to think about Outlaw's massive bulk. I focused my attention on the teeth in front me and…

I leapt. He leapt. I got the teeth. He got my tail.

I beat at Outlaw with as much ferocity as I could muster, and by sheer luck I managed to get my tail loose from his iron jaws. I didn't waste any time and, with the false teeth held tightly in mine, fled for the exit just as the other cats started to come after me. I nearly slammed into Missile on the way.

"Don't ask, just RUN!" I yelled to him.

Missile took one look at the surge of ferocious felines and that was enough for him.

Once again, I found my undersized body letting me down as Outlaw and gang slowly gained on me, and Missile wasn't faring much better. If the cats caught me, I at least had the Temsik fragment to preserve me, but Missile wouldn't stand a chance.

"Missile!" I called out to him. "I'm gonna throw you something, it's real important! Grab on to it and get home as fast as you can!"

"Right!"

"Are you insane?" screamed Toon-Face. "You can't just toss me around like a chew-toy!"

I ignored him, and tossed my head towards Missile, letting the false teeth go as I did. They flew over towards Missile, the ghost cursing all the way. Missile's little legs bounded with all their might, it wasn't much but it was just enough! He snapped up the teeth and held on for dear life as he slammed face-first on to the pavement. Despite this mishap, he was back on his feet and making the wild dash for freedom. Missile may not be the most graceful of creatures, but he certainly made up for it in pure spunk.

I on the other hand, turned on my tail and started running headlong towards Outlaw and the alley cats. Missile stopped for a second, hesitant.

"I'll be fine, just go!"

It was with some reluctance that Missile obeyed me.

Now it was just me and the cats. I rammed headlong into Outlaw, knocking the wind out of him. I skidded to a halt and jumped around to face him, hunched over and spitting like mad. Outlaw picked himself up and slowly started advancing towards me, his posse of alley cats forming a tight circle around me from which there was no escape, even if I used my Ghost Tricks. I took a gulp of air, closed my eyes and braced myself for the inevitable beating…

It was night-time when I finally managed to drag my sorry carcass back home. It was true that I had not suffered any physical damage, but my fur was dirty and dishevelled, and I was mentally and emotionally exhausted.

I pawed at the door weakly and was answered by the Beloved Mother. She took one look at me and shook her head.

"Well what do you expect, if you're going to keep running away like that?"

I just sat there, hanging my head.

Beloved Mother sighed and stepped aside so I could make my way in. I shuffled in miserably, hoping that when Missile had got home the teeth had not be instantly thrown away, or at least the ghost had enough sense to move on to something else in the house.

I was in luck. As I flopped into my basket brooding over my ruined dignity, I was approached by the Good Detective who took something out of his coat pocket.

"Missile passed this on to me before Lynne took him home," he whispered. "It's obviously of some importance if you rushed out like that."

He placed the item in the basket beside me – the false teeth. I prayed to the powers that be that Toon-Face was still there, and that he was feeling more cooperative this time around. Thankfully when I entered the Ghost World, there was that contrary little flame dancing around madly, although its attitude hadn't improved.

"What are you moping about for?" he griped. "You look like you've got it pretty well made for a flea-bitten hairball."

I rolled my eyes, trying my best to ignore the crabby spirit and get some well deserve rest. Toon-Face on the other hand may have forgotten who he was, but he sure hadn't forgotten how to complain. He complained about everything – about having to share sleeping quarters with a cat, about how Missile had drooled on him during the rescue, even about the Good Detective's and Beloved Mother's choices in interior decorating. He went on all night and well into the morning.

This guy had better have been worth the effort.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: And so the Games Begin

The next day, after a much-needed bath, I decided to get right down to questioning Toon-Face. I had hoped that he'd have calmed down overnight, but to my disappointment he was as obstinate as before.

"You do realise that you've made a very grave mistake!" he huffed. "Holding me here against my will – I have very important friends, you know!"

"Well that's as good a start as any," I sighed. "Maybe you could tell me their names?"

Toon-Face huffed and puffed as he tried his best to remember. "So what if I don't know their names!" he sputtered. "They're friends and they're important and that's all you damn well need to know!"

"Ok then, let's start with something a bit simpler. Do you remember your own name?"

"What kinda stupid question is that? Of course I know my own bloody name!"

"That's great! Can you tell me what it is?"

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"What?"

"Why the hell am I talking to you? You're a bloody cat! I want to speak to a human being, dammit!" Still possessing the false teeth, Toon-Face began making them jump up and down while calling out towards the Good Detective and his family. "Oi, you lot! Down here! Bloody hell; are you all deaf or something? I have a right mind to come up there and-!"

"Will you calm down and just listen!" I slammed my paw on top of the teeth in an effort to still them. "They can't hear you, ok? Right now, I'm the only one who can help you and you are the only one who can help me!"

"Th-this is preposterous!" stammered the spirit. "I can't be dead… I'm a picture of perfect health!"

"No, you are most certainly dead," I told him. "And what's more, when you died there were special circumstances involved that gifted you with special powers, such as the ability to possess objects and manipulate them. Like those false teeth you're in right now."

I lifted my paw from the teeth. He didn't try to bite me or anything so I felt safe to continue.

"Do you have any idea who you are?"

"No."

"Do you remember how you died?"

"No I do not!"

I sighed and picked up my catnip mouse. "Here, try jumping into this."

"How's that any better than these teeth?"

"The lady of the house is going to find and get rid of these teeth sooner or later. Do you really want to end up as landfill?"

Toon-Face complied, but took the time to grumble another cuss word in my direction. I ignored him and with the catnip toy still in my mouth, I headed to the Good Detective's study – since yesterday's meeting with Yomiel, he had taken to leaving the door open for my benefit. I jumped up onto the tabled and began looking through the passport photographs of the Twister's victims, thinking that the crime scene images were too confronting at this stage.

"Okay then," I said, placing the mouse on the table next to the photos, "I'm going to show you some faces and I want you to take a good look at each and every one of them – one of these people might just be you or at least someone you recognise."

"Humph."

I showed Toon-Face the photo of the office worker first since he was the most likely candidate. "This is the man who was found in the same place where we first ran into each other," I told Toon-Face. "You remember him at all?"

Toon-Face jumped onto the photograph to get a closer look. It was a moment or two before he answered me. "Never seen 'im before." he grumbled.

I moved onto the next photograph – a truck driver who had been found tangled in the entrance gates of a local high school.

"How about this guy, think you might be him?"

"You're kidding me, right? That fat balding dimwit can't possibly be me."

"How about this person," I took out an image of a flamboyant-looking hairdresser who been left in the middle of a baseball stadium. "Recognise him at all?"

"Do I look like someone who'd hang out with such a tasteless bum?"

"I wouldn't know," I replied sarcastically. "Most people aren't blue flames with cartoon faces."

"Hey, I didn't ask to drop dead and forget who I was!"

"Well," I spread all six photos on the table, "do any of these people look familiar to you?"

"No! I wouldn't be caught dead hanging out with any of these morons!"

"You are dead, remember?" I said through gritted teeth. "Alright, let's try this from a different angle – do you remember where you were when you woke up, or even how long you've been dead for?"

"How the hell should I know?" snarled Toon-Face.

"Maybe because it was your death?" I muttered crossly. "Look, is there anything you do remember? At all?"

"I don't remember."

Well, this was going nowhere. There was only one other time that I knew of that it had taken so long for a ghost to recover its memories, but that was only because I had mistook Yomiel's body as my own. This ghost however, had nothing.

"Okay, let's work backwards then. Remember back at the park? Perhaps you could tell me how you got there."

"I keep telling ya, I don't remember nuttin'!"

"Well then, you see anything unusu-"

"NO!"

I was fast losing patience. Missile and I had worked so hard to recover this loud-mouthed ingrate, and I couldn't help feel as if he was screwing me around.

"Let's give it a rest for now…" I said finally. "Recovering lost memories can take some time for the newly dead, so I'll just go and give you to some space to think, ok?"

"Hmph."

I jumped off the table and made my way to the living room, my nerves tense and my hopes low. The Little Lady noticed that I seemed to be in a bad mood.

"I heard you got into trouble last night," said she. She bent down beside me and began to scratch my head. "It's ok Sissy, you safe here at home."

Safe at home, huh? Those six people whose lives now only existed as notes and photos in the Good Detective's office certainly never got the chance to return to the safety of their homes, of their families and loved ones. They had died miserable and alone, with only their murderer for company. Could that haughty and brash spirit in the Good Detective's study really have been one of those six faces forever lost in agony?

The ringing of the phone woke me from my reflections, and I watched with curiosity as Beloved Mother went to answer it. After all, it might be a lead on the Twister.

"Alma here, how may I help you?" she said cheerily. "Oh Lynne, how lovely to hear from you! How have you been?" It was at this point that the expression on Beloved Mother's face began to fall, something was obviously wrong. "O-oh dear… I'll get him right away." Beloved Mother placed her hand over the receiver and called out to her husband. "Jowd, its Lynne – she says she's in trouble."

The Good Detective rushed over, taking the receiver from his wife and speaking into it, "Lynne, what's wrong?" I could sense the urgency in his voice. "Stay put. I'll be there in a minute."

He hung up the phone and rushed to the door, grabbing his jacket on the way.

"Daddy?" The Little Lady stopped petting me and looked up at her father. "Is Lynne ok?"

"She's fine, sweetheart," said the Good Detective reassuringly. "She's just had a bit of a scare and needs me to check a few things out."

The Little Lady went to her mother's side, hiding in her skirts.

I too was concerned with Lynne's welfare; while she had lost all her memories of the Fateful Night we had gone through a lot together and I still felt very much attached to her. Plus I felt kind of bad about scratching her up the night before. After taking time to hide my body I headed for the phone and once again found myself flying down the network, this time towards Lynne's apartment.

The place was swarming with cops when I got there, and the apartment had been turned upside-down, but Lynne herself didn't seem to be around. I noticed Missile had been tethered to a chair so he wouldn't get underfoot, so I made my way over to him.

"Hey Missile," I said. "What happened? Where's Lynne?"

"I dunno," he said sadly. "We came home from our walk, but when we got home…"he looked around the trashed apartment. " And there was a note on the closet door. She took one look at it and it made her really angry. She used the phone a couple of times and then she just ran out LEAVING ME ALL ALONE!" Missile let out a howl, prompting one of the nearby police officers to try and calm Missile with the offer of a biscuit.

"Relax Missile," I reassured him. "I'll go look for her."

The Good Detective came in not long afterwards, and I listened in as he was briefed by an officer.

"Where's Lynne?"

""She took a car and left as soon as we arrived, sir."

"What? I told her to stay put!"

"Yes sir, she wanted us to let you know she was sorry sir, but she said she had to follow a lead."

"A lead?"

The uniformed officer handed the Detective a note.

"That's the note that upset Miss Lynne!" Missile told me excitedly.

I jumped up to the note to see for myself what it was that had caused Lynne to rush out on her own. Even without the shaky, scrawled style of writing, the words pretty much spoke for themselves:

gAME'S gETTING eASY – wAY tOO bORING

i'LL bE wAITING aT tHE eASTERN dOCKS wITH mY nEWEST pLAYMATE

cARE tO jOIN tHE fUN? bETTER hURRY oR yOU'LL mISS mE

tWISTER

"Dear Gods," muttered the Detective, his face pale. He grabbed a police radio and began yelling into it, "Lynne – LYNNE! You get back here right now!"

"No can do, Jowd," Lynne's voice crackled from the radio. "My gut tells me this isn't a hoax."

"That's what I'm afraid of! You get back here right now, and that's an order!"

"Sorry sir, but this could be our only – what in the name of-!"

Lynne's words were cut off by the squeal of tires, followed by the crunching of cold metal. The Good Detective's face went pale, and he dropped the note and ran for the door. I had a feeling that my Powers of the Dead were going to be needed, so I quickly attached myself to the Detective's gun and went with him.

Lynne was already dead when we arrived. Her car had veered off the road and into a street lamp, which explained the racket that had been heard over the radio. Sprawled a little further down the road was a wrecked electric scooter twisted together with a second corpse, which I quickly recognised to be that of the Scrawny Snooper from the Temsik Park crime scene.

"Witnesses say she was driving along when he pulled out in front of her, sir," a police officer told a distraught Good Detective. "They were both killed instantly."

"Thank you officer. If you don't mind, I just need some room to think…"

"Of course, sir."

As the uniformed officer walked away, the Good Detective looked up towards the sky. "Sissel?" he said quietly. "If you followed me… well, I hope you followed me… if you could just do your thing…" he looked towards the pair of bodies as they were zipped into black plastic bags. "The boy too – I wanna kick his smarmy ass myself."

Under normal circumstances, I would've thought little about going back in time to prevent a death, having done it so many times before. But the missing cores in the Twister's victims had knocked my confidence somewhat. Even with my excursion to the city morgue, I had no guarantee that Lynne's core would be intact. Well, there was only one way to find out.

Thankfully, the cores of both Lynne and Scrawny were still there. I decided to try Lynne's first, I hadn't spoken with her in such a long time although I knew that my chances that her soul would be conscious were very slim. But I was in for a pleasant surprise for there was Lynne in full form, awake and alert. It was a real bonus for I knew that Lynne would now have a Core of the Dead, meaning I wouldn't have to bother Yomiel anymore.

"Crap," Lynne muttered. "And just when I was on to something…"

"Relax," I said to her, "you won't be this way for too long."

She looked at me, a little stunned at first, but she just shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Guess it makes sense. How'd you get here anyway? Bet you got hit by a car or something, seeing as you keep running away all the time."

"Heh-heh, not quite. I'll explain later," I said, getting up and heading towards the path that would send us back in time. "Right now, let's just work on preventing your death, ok?"

"Uh, pardon?"

Once again I felt the winds of time reversing, blowing Lynne and I towards that crucial moment needed to prevent death. Lynne was unable to speak, frozen in awe as she saw the events of her death replay themselves right before her very eyes.

We were right outside Lynne's apartment, watching as she ran out the door towards an unoccupied police car.

"But Officer Lynne!" a uniformed officer called out after her. "Jowd and Cabanela said to wait until they…!"

"Tell them I'm sorry, but this could be our only chance." Lynne started the car and pulled out into the street. "Wish me luck!"

Switching on the alarm, Lynne hit the accelerator and speed off in the direction of the eastern docks. A few minutes later, the Good Detective's radio transmission came through.

"Lynne – LYNNE! You get back here right now!"

"No can do, Jowd. My gut tells me this isn't a hoax."

"That's what I'm afraid of! You get back here right now, and that's an order!"

"Sorry sir, but this is our only –" Lynne stopped short as a silver blur, seemingly from out of nowhere, jumped into her path. "What in the name of-!"

Lynne slammed on the brakes, causing the car to swing wildly but it was too late. The body of the car slammed into Scrawny and his scooter, sending them both flying, and Lynne vainly struggled to regain control of the car as it spun out and smashed into the lamppost.

Lynne stood there, stunned. "Holy cow."

"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet, Lynne."

"So, you say you can stop me from dying?"

"I can pretty much save anyone who's been dead for less than a day," I said, moving towards Scrawny's body. "The key here seems to be preventing this man here from cutting you off like that."

"So that moron got me killed," Lynne growled. "I swear, if you're telling the truth and can keep me from dying I'm gonna kick his ass…"

"Detective Jowd called dibs on that one," I told her. "Although you might be in for a bit of ear-bending yourself when all's said and done."

"Like you can talk."

I let my spirit energy make contact with Scrawny's core. Unlike Lynne, Scrawny's ghost was still a silent blue flame.

"Where is he?" asked Lynne, her voice slightly panicked. "You can bring him back, right?"

"Relax, he's just unconscious. Usually this is what happens when someone dies for the first time. You probably took so quickly to recover because I've saved you before."

"Wait, you're saying I've been dead before? And you saved me?"

"Yeah, but those deaths were completely erased so you wouldn't remember them, and I didn't appear to you as I do now." I made my way towards the path headed back in time, Lynne following close behind. "It's a long story. Let's just focus on preventing you two from dying now, shall we?"

This time, we were witnessing the lead-up to Scrawny's death. He was outside what I took to be his apartment, fumbling with his keys while a surprisingly familiar face waited anxiously behind him – a kid with spiky purple hair, wearing a leather jacket.

"C'mon Renny, I gotta meet the band for rehearsal," he whined.

"Yeah yeah, just a sec," Scrawny replied. "Are, here it is."

The lock clicked open, and the two men went inside, but they were in for an unpleasant shock. Their apartment had been trashed just like Lynne's had been.

"Holy-!" the Spiky-Haired Rocker's eyes went wide. "Aw man, they better have not messed with my vintage Gibson."

Scrawny wasn't paying attention; he was far too focused on the suspicious-looking note stuck on the wall. He tore it off and took a quick look at it, and then he bolted past the Spiky-Haired Rocker, nearly knocking him to the ground.

"Hey dude, what gives?"

"A lead on the Twister case!" Scrawny called back. "This could be my big break!"

"Then shouldn't we like, y'know, call the cops?"

Scrawny payed no heed to this suggestion, jumped onto his scooter and sped out into the street, speeding downs side roads and back alleys, before he finally turned the corner that put him in collision course with Lynne and her car.

Scrawny saw the car, but he was moving way too fast to stop or even move out of the way, "Oh no… oh CRAP no!"

And it was over.

"Did he say he got a note from the Twister?" asked Lynne.

"That may be something you'll want to check up on," I said. "But right now, let's see what I can do about that scooter."

It turned out that getting to the scooter from the accident scene was more trouble than I had bargained for. I spent a good amount of time trying to find a pathway without much success. Lynne noticed this.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Can't you just zap yourself over there? We're running outta time!"

"My powers have their limits," I explained. "I can only move by possessing objects within my reach."

I scanned around desperately for anything that might give me a hand, looking at street lights, shop windows, dumpsters, orange one-eyed cats… wait, what?

It was Outlaw alright, lazing contentedly on a tree branch and enjoying in the sunshine. I couldn't help but notice that his location was overhanging the path down which Scrawny would soon be passing. Normally, I wouldn't have wished Outlaw's wrath on anyone, but this was a matter of life or death. I snaked my way into the tree, possessed the branch and began to shake, not hard mind you, but just enough so that Outlaw was roused from his slumber and lost some of his balance. He yowled and spat, trying to figure out what it was that had disturbed his rest. Finally, I saw Scrawny coming past. I waited until the timing was just right, until Scrawny was almost about to pass directly underneath. Using all my strength, I shook the branch so vigorously that Outlaw lost his balance, losing his grip and landing right on top of Scrawny's head.

"Holy-shit-someone-get-this-CAT-OFF-MY-HEAD!"

I winced a little as the runaway scooter derailed into a dumpster, and Scrawny was upended and landed inside with an unpleasant squelch, Outlaw's claws still digging into his skull.

"Well," said I, as Lynne and I returned to the present, "Not the solution I would've preferred but at least you two won't die now…"

"Wow that was awesome!" Lynne had a huge grin on her face. "If only Jowd knew about all this."

"Actually, he does. If you talk to him he'll explain everything to you."

"You mean I'm going to remember all this?"

"Yeah, you will. What's more, it's now possible for us to communicate with one another pretty much whenever we want."

"No way. This is incredible!"

"Now Lynne," I dropped the casual nature I had been using until now and adopted a more serious tone. "When you get back, I need you to ask Jowd to fill you in about the missing cores." I looked her straight in the eye to make sure she understood. "You hear me? Ask about the cores. It's very important."

Lynne was a little put off by my sudden change of demeanour, but as carefree as Lynne was, she was by no means a ditz. "Ok Sissel, I'll be sure to tell him."

"Good. Now, let's go back to the present, shall we?"

When we came to the present, I was still in the tree branch watching as poor Scrawny pulled himself out of the dumpster and tried to dislodge a livid Outlaw from his face. Knowing he was heading in the same direction as Lynne was, I snuck myself onto his scooter and waited. Scrawny finally managed to pry the angry tom cat off of him and got on his scooter, started it up and drove towards the eastern docks.

"I hate cats."

As much as that statement hurt, I couldn't help but sympathise.

Lynne's car was already on the scene by the time Scrawny and I arrived, and I attached myself to his camera as he got off the scooter. But I realised that we had a serious problem – the docks themselves consisted of rows upon rows of large warehouses, and there was no sure way of knowing in which one the Twister was hiding. I saw Lynne not far off, looking around her frantically trying to think of where to check first. Scrawny saw her too, and tried to sneak by her, but she caught sight of him and rushed over towards him.

"Hey!" she got right up in his face. "You realise you nearly got us both killed back there, right?"

"I nearly-? What do you mean, I nearly killed you?"

I jumped from Scrawny's camera and into Lynne's core, hoping to calm her down.

"Lynne," I tried to attract her attention. "Lynne, there's something I…"

"Oh c'mon, I nearly ran in to you on your stupid scooter! If it wasn't for Jowd's cat-!"

"Um, Lynne…"

"Just because the Twister broke into your house and left you a note-!"

"Whoa, back up. A, how did you know about the break-in and b, that yellow monstrosity is your boss's pet?"

"No, the black one – Sissel! The one who can talk and time travel and everything!"

There was an awkward pause. Scrawny blinked a bit before he spoke again, "Are you high or something?"

"Lynne," I was finally able to get her attention. "He was unconscious back there. He doesn't remember anything."

Lynne's face seemed to turn the same shade of red as her hair. "Fine!" she snapped, storming back towards the warehouses. "Just don't get in my way or anything."

Scrawny threw up his arms and made off in the other direction, "Fine, whatever… ya damn psycho."

Lynne ignored this insult and stared despondently at the rows of warehouses stretched out in front of her. "Great, now what do we do?"

"Let me go," I said, "I'll jump through them much quicker than you can walk. I'll come back for you if I spot anything."

"Well, okay." Lynne walked over to a pile of crates stacked up against a wall. "I'll call for backup while I wait for you."

Most of the warehouses were either empty, or simply holding everyday things waiting to shipped to who knows where. I was rushing around for about half an hour or so when I heard it – a muffled scream. I wasted no time, following the sound to the warehouse it had come from, hoping I could make it in time. The warehouse I entered was mostly dark, save for a single mobile searchlight that illuminated a small area. I took possession of the light so I could take a closer look, and that's when I stumbled into a nightmare.

At the centre of the lighted area was an operating table, strapped to which was a man in casual attire, but the look on his face certainly wasn't. He was pale and sweating, his face filthy and streaked with tears. His eyes were bulging in terror, focused on a shadowy figure looming above him. This shadowy figure was a man; tall, lean, but powerful-looking, wearing a filthy blood-stained apron and holding what appeared to be a scalpel. But most horrifying was the mask. It seemed to be made of some sort of sacking, crudely fashioned into the shape of a face, with two narrow slits for eyes, a metal zipper where the mouth should be, frayed and knotted pieces of filthy string in place of the hair, and spattered all over with stains in varying shades of red. The way he moved, it was like some sort of demented bird of prey, cocking and twitching his head as he looked over his terrified victim. There was no doubt in my mind – he had to be Twister.

"Are you having fun?" he said in an oily, rasping voice. He lowered the scalpel and drew it across the victim's cheek, letting out a thin trickle of blood and causing the victim to cry in pain. The Twister brought his masked face so it was nose-to-nose with the victim, still performing that bizarre twitching. "I know I am. I'm having lots of fun."

"Please," begged the man pathetically. "My mom's got MS; she'll never survive without me…"

I had promised Lynne I would go fetch her, but I knew by the time I did that this man would most certainly be dead. Thinking fast, I switched off the searchlight, plunging the room into darkness. I reasoned that the Twister was only human after all and would never be able to see in the dark. Then, before the Twister could have time to switch the light back on, I quickly zipped up onto the table and worked as fast as could on unfastening the leather straps holding the man on the table, hoping he'd have enough sense to make a run for it. Indeed, no sooner I had freed one of his hands he instantly set to work on the other, as quickly and as quietly as he could manage. Then the scalpel flew out of nowhere and hit him in the throat.

I could only watch in horror as the man began to gurgle and splutter, coughing up blood as he struggled to stay alive. It was still pitch dark. How had the Twister hit this man in the throat with such frightening accuracy?

"Finally," the Twister's voice came from right above me, with a tone of smug satisfaction. "A challenger approaches. I was starting to get bored, with only the pigs and bleeders to play with. Oh, and that little photographer. Needed to mix it up, you know."

He grabbed the scalpel, tearing it from the victim's neck, an act which finally killed the poor man.

"Surprised I know that you're here, are you?" the Twister continued. "Perhaps I should enlighten you a little, hm?"

Suddenly, I found myself in the familiar glow of the Ghost World, and that's when I saw it – Temsik radiation, flowing from the Twister's body. I had seen this before, from when Yomiel himself was cursed to bear the fragment, and from my own body where the fragment now rested. The Twister had the Powers of the Dead! His soul was not the familiar blue flame I had come to recognise, but a hideous black slimy lump, oozing and writhing, like nothing I had seen before. But the worst was yet to come. I could easily see the core of the victim from my position in the leather straps, and already the Temsik radiation was affecting his soul, creating another ghost with these rare and unusual powers. But whatever these powers were, the poor soul never got a chance to use them. From the oozing lump of the Twister's soul came a hideous army of shadowy hands, shooting towards the victim's ghost and ensnaring it like a set of vile teeth. They pulled the struggling soul towards the Twister, and his slimy soul opened itself into a hideously gaping mouth, swallowing the poor little ghost.

"I would like to have played with him for just a little bit longer," gloated the Twister. "But I suppose if you're here then the piggies must also be on their way." He turned to leave. "Oh, and don't try to follow me. I'd hate for you to be out of the game before it's even started."

It was only then that it dawned on me that the Twister could just as easily have devoured me too if he had so wished. But for now he was letting me go, and I wasn't about to argue with him. I had a very bad feeling about all of this, and as the Twister disappeared into the shadows I turned my attentions towards the fresh corpse of his victim.

My worst suspicions were confirmed – the victim had lost his core.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Questions, Answers and Other Disasters

The next few minutes were something of a blur as I tried to make sense of what I'd just seen. I'm not sure when exactly when Lynne and the others arrived, but by the time I started to recover my senses she was already receiving a tongue lashing from her two mentors.

"What were you thiiiiinking?" hollered Loose & Lanky. "Lynne, you were ordered to stay put till we got there. You had no way of knowing if this was a trap or something!"

"I'm sorry sir," Lynne said. "It's just we've been hitting so many brick walls on this case…."

"There is noooo excuse!"

"Listen Lynne," the Good Detective said sternly. "Just because we're friends – well, really, because we are your friends – we simply can't let you off for this." He hung his head. "Cabanela and I know all too well what can go wrong when a cop acts on green impulsion."

I knew exactly what the Good Detective was referring to, and I could tell from the look on Loose & Lanky's face that he did too. "What you did was stupid, baby," he said, shaking his head. "And in the end, what good did you reeeally do?"

Lynne looked as if she was about to cry. Then, a light seemed to off in her head, and she turned to the Good Detective. "Jowd, I spoke with Sissel. He said to ask you something about cores?"

The Good Detective looked up. "Have a little brush with death, did we?"

"Yeah… guess that's my fault too though, huh?"

"Are you saying we have a liiive witness?"

Lynne looked at the Good Detective with unease. "Uh, does he know about…?"

"'Fraid not."

"What do we tell him? I don't wanna end up looking like a fruitcake. Again…"

"Um baby, I'm still standing here."

My mind was still spinning with fear and revulsion. I didn't really care about the communication problems our team was experiencing at that moment, I just wanted to get away from that empty husk of a body, to get somewhere safe. At that moment, that safe place was Lynne's core. "Lynne."

"Sissel!" she looked towards the dead body half-strapped to the table. "You can do what you did for me, right?"

"No, I-I can't. I wish I could but..." my mind was still foggy with shock and I was having trouble projecting my thoughts across. "He took it, Lynne…"

"Sissel, what are you talking about?"

"He ate it…"

"Calm down. Who took what? Who ate what?"

"He had Temsik radiation…"

When I didn't reply, Lynne turned back to the Good Detective. "Sissel's here, but there's something wrong. It's like he's delirious, he's babbling about something being eaten, then he mentioned Temsik Park and radiation."

"Can he save him?" the Good Detective gestured towards the man on the table.

"He says he can't."

Loose & Lanky was staring to lose patience. "Care to fiiiill me in on your little secret?"

The Good Detective sighed and looked Loose & Lanky in the eye "I suppose it isn't fair to keep you out of the loop, Cabanela. Plus there are a few things Lynne doesn't understand."

"I don't understand?" Lynne look confused. "Like what?"

"Like why my cat is able to reverse time and talk to the dead."

"Well now that you mention it, I was so caught up in the thrill of the chase…"

"Waaaait a second, Jowd," Loose & Lanky cut in. "What did you just say about your cat?"

"It's not something we can really talk about here," the Good Detective gestured towards the other police officers. "When we're done here, I'd like you two to meet me at the forensics unit. I'll bring Sissel with me."

Lynne nodded in agreement, but Lean & Lanky looked unconvinced. Hopefully that would change when he saw just what was kept at forensics.

Lynne, Loose & Lanky and I went straight to the forensics unit, but we had to wait a while for the Good Detective who had to stop by at home to pick up my body. As we were waiting in the lobby, Lynne was approached by an older woman in a motorised wheelchair.

"E-excuse me…"

Lynne turned to greet the woman, "May I help you, ma'am?"

"I'm here… I-I'm here to see my son…" her hands were trembling. "They say you were first on the scene…"

Loose & Lanky sighed and cast his gaze towards the floor, while Lynne bit her lip and guided the woman's chair towards the direction of the morgue. I was still attached to Lynne's notebook, so naturally I came along with her.

The person that the woman in the wheelchair had come to see was none other than the Twister's latest victim. As the coroner lifted the white cloth and revealed his pale, lifeless face, the woman burst in to tears. I could see that Lynne was fighting back her own.

"My poor, sweet baby," sobbed the woman. "He was such a good boy. He gave up going to college just so he could come and take care of me…"

The cloth went back over the victim's face, and Lynne helped the woman find her way back to the lobby. "We'll catch who did this to you son, ma'am," Lynne said softly. "We're doing everything we can."

"I know you are, Officer. He was such a good boy. I'm sure the Gods have saved a place for him in heaven."

I was so grateful that she couldn't possibly know the truth.

The Good Detective finally arrived, with the carry case containing my body, and he had brought the Professor and his little pigeon with along him.

"So," said the Professor, adjusting his glasses, "the cat's out of the bag, so to speak."

"They still haven't been told about the meteorite," said the Detective.

The Professor gave a grunt, and signalled for the others to follow him. Lynne gave Loose & Lanky a confused look, but he just shrugged and strutted after the Good Detective and the Professor. Lynne hurried after him.

After walking down a few hallways and taking a few elevators, we finally arrived at a thick metal door with a number pad set in the middle. The others watched on as the Professor typed out a code and the metal door with an ominous hiss. The Good Detective and I had been before, but that was over a year ago.

I think we were all a little nervous as we entered the room, a big empty space with a single pedestal in the in the centre, upon which sat an intimidating steel box. The Head-Nesting Pigeon took out a plastic card out of the Professor's pocket and handed it to him, and he swiped it through a lock on the box, causing it to pop open and reveal within it an eerie, shimmering blue crystal – the Temsik meteorite.

"Lynne, Cabanela," said the Good Detective. "You both remember a certain incident ten years ago?"

Loose & Lanky shifted uneasily and stayed silent, but Lynne gave a cheery grin.

"Of course I remember." she said. "That's the day I got kidnapped, and you saved me!"

"That's not quite the whole story," the Good Detective picked up a small shard from the meteorite and showed it to Lynne. "To put it more accurately, this is what saved you – when it fell from the sky and knocked the Temsik Park mascot from its perch."

"Well yeah, but you chased him down and caught him."

"Can we just get to the point?" grumbled the Professor. "I was supposed to be working on some Evel Knievel wannabe before you dragged me back down here."

"Very well," the Good Detective put my carry case down on the floor and opened the door, and out flopped my empty, unconscious body.

Loose & Lanky and Lynne stood in silent shock for a while.

"Oh Sissel," Lynne said finally. "I'm so sorry."

"No, its ok," I told her, "I'm not dead – well, I am dead, technically speaking, but it's easier if I just show you."

I left Lynne's notebook and re-entered my body, allowing myself to feel as my energy spread itself into the tip of my nose, travelling into my paws and along my spine towards my tail. Lynne gave a slight gasp of surprise as I got up, but Loose & Lanky was unimpressed.

"Greaaat," he groaned. "A narcoleptic cat. And this helps us hoooow?"

The Professor turned to the Good Detective, "Time for a little demo, I think."

The Good Detective's face went pale, "Oh… Oh c'mon, is that really necessary?"

"Yes, if you want them to understand what the Temsik meteorite really is. It was the only way you were able to convince me."

"Yes, b-but… well, it's just that…"

"Oh, just shut up and shoot the darn cat already."

Lynne and Loose & Lanky were unsurprisingly horrified by this suggestion, and were very vocal in their objections. While the Good Detective tried to reassure the pair that he wouldn't shoot me, the Professor just rolled his eyes and looked towards me.

"You," he said to me. "Stand still."

For me, a gunshot was a minor inconvenience. I stood over at the other side of the room as the Professor took out a small pistol from a drawer in the central pedestal and took aim at me. Lynne and the others realised what was happening and rushed to stop the Professor, but the gun gave a loud pop and I felt the bullet tear through my body. It didn't hurt, but the force was enough to knock me off my feet.

Lynne screamed and Loose & Lanky's jaw was hanging open, the Good Detective looked embarrassed while the Professor calmly made his way towards me.

"Oh, be quiet," he grumbled. "He's not dead – see?"

I got back up on my feet, and gave a quick mew to let them know I was fine.

"Oh my gosh," Lynne looked as if she was going to faint. "Sissel… how on earth…?"

I walked over to her, rubbing my body against her legs to calm her. "Remember the day of the incident?" I told her. "After your rescue, you found a little black kitten."

Lynne looked thoughtful. "Yeah, I do remember something like that. Didn't Jowd…?" a light went off in her eyes. "No way, that was you?"

Loose & Lanky finally found his tongue, "OK, just what the heeeeell is going on here?"

"This meteorite," the Professor took the fragment from the Good Detective. "Or 'Rock of the Gods', as the ignorant have taken to calling it, fell from the heavens ten years ago, and a shard of it hit our little friend here," the Professor gestured to me.

"Wait, sir," Lynne turned to Jowd. "I thought that rock hit you in the leg?"

The Good Detective shook his head, "It did, but it was a through-and-through. It then lodged itself into Sissel."

"But wouldn't that have killed him?"

"As I was saying!" the Professor huffed impatiently. "A shard of this meteorite hit our feline friend here and got itself stuck inside him. Now, this rock has certain special properties have somehow gifted him certain special abilities. First off," the Pigeon handed him a stethoscope, "I would like you to take a quick listen."

Loose & Lanky was the first to make the vain attempt of finding my heartbeat, he even gave a quick shake to make sure it wasn't broken. Lynne simply shook her head in astonishment when her turn came.

"His vital functions have ceased, but the Temsik has 'preserved' him, so to speak," the Professor continued. "He's just as he was the exact moment before he perished, and as you've just seen with the gun you could throw just about anything at him and it would have no effect. He's effectively immortal, neither dead nor alive. What's more, Sissel here is able to detach his own consciousness from his body and travel through inanimate objects at will, even able to manipulate them." He placed the pistol on the pedestal. "Would you care to demonstrate for us?"

Once again I let my body flop to the floor, and I took possession of the gun. When I was sure that everyone was out of firing range, I set it off. Only Loose & Lanky hadn't observed my powers this time around, but the crack of the gun going off was enough to make everyone jump in shock.

"And of course," said the Professor, as I returned to my body and he returned the gun to its drawer, "our little friend is able to speak to others who have been deceased for less than twenty-four hours, and reverse time back to four minutes before they died. That's an ability, however, that I'm yet to see for myself, although Jowd assures me it exists, and from what he tells me, you have recently seen this in action yourself, Officer Lynne."

"Yeah," Lynne nodded, "I did."

"It was Jowd who came to me and suggested the Temsik meteorite be taken from the Park and be placed here, about a year ago," said the Professor. "He came to me with his cat and gave me a similar demonstration as you were just shown…"

"Oh Jowd," Loose & Lanky was mortified. "You shot your own caaaat?"

"Not my proudest moment," muttered the Good Detective.

"A-HEM!" the Professor shot everyone a quick glare before he went on. "The reason the meteorite was shut here was not just because of its obvious effect on the cat. It has another effect. It seems when anyone dies close enough to this 'Rock of the Gods', their bodies perish normally, but their consciousness is preserved. They become 'wandering spirits', so to speak, with abilities not to dissimilar to what was demonstrated by little Sissel here when he separated his consciousness from his body. Obviously, with Temsik Park being open to the public, the prospect of having an army of undead troublemakers isn't one to be taken lightly." The Professor took off his glasses and gave them a quick wipe. "Feel free to jabber away now, I'm done explaining."

"So you died and Sissel saved you?" Lynne asked, turning to the Good Detective. "That's how you know all this about the meteorite."

"It's more complex than that," said the Good Detective. "You see, there was another version of those events ten years ago. In that version, yes, at one point I did die. But that 'past' was effectively erased, and now it's like I've never been dead, meaning that Sissel can't communicate with me like he can with you, Lynne." He sighed, and looked Lynne straight in the eye. "A fact that makes you very important to this case."

"As miiiind blowing as this whole thing has been," said Loose & Lanky, "what does this have to do with the Twister case?"

The Good Detective was silent for a moment. "The very fact that a cat with the power to speak to the dead," he said finally, "has taken an interest in this case is very significant in itself, wouldn't you say?"

I knew the Good Detective had left out mentioning Yomiel's involvement on purpose. Like me, he felt it was unfair to drag him into this. I decided it would be for the best to go along with this minor deception. Loose & Lanky seemed to buy it, and he asked no more questions.

"So," Lynne knelt down beside me, "Sissel. You saw what happened back at the crime scene. You think you'll be able to tell me?"

I had significantly calmed down by this stage. So I told her – how I had followed them to the sixth crime scene, about cores of the dead and that the Twister's victims were lacking theirs, about that obnoxious Toon-Faced ghost and the remote chance that he might know something. I left out my meeting with Yomiel, of course. Then came the part I had been dreading. The meeting with the Twister, of the Temsik fragment within him, of his warped, ugly soul and that horrible power of his, the power that left his victims without a core, with no chance of recovering their stolen lives.

I will never forget the revulsion on Lynne's face. As I returned to my body, Lynne got up slowly, she was pale and trembling.

"Lynne?" Loose & Lanky was alarmed by the sudden change in her demeanour. "Lynne baby, what's wrong?"

"We have a problem," was the reply.

Even the normally unflappable Professor was horrified as Lynne repeated my story. "The Temsik meteorite has been locked up since last year," he said. "The security is impenetrable. That means the Twister has been active for longer than we first thought."

"There must be a reason he exposes the souls to the radiation before he eats them," reasoned the Good Detective. "He must gain some sort of benefit."

"But why go to aaaall that trouble with the torture?" said Loose & Lanky. "If he's just hungry, why doesn't he just eat them and run? Why put the bodies on display?"

"What about the ghost Sissel found?" asked Lynne. "If he's a victim of the Twister, how'd he avoid getting eaten?"

"He's probably just a red herring," said the Professor. "He could've easily dropped dead at the Park before the meteorite was removed."

"Sooooo, now we know all this," Loose & Lanky interjected. "What good does it do us? How do we fight a guy we can't kill?"

After that we left the containment room, the Good Detective carrying me in my little case. No one spoke as we headed back towards the lobby. The mood wasn't exactly jovial when we had arrived, but now it felt like we'd just been informed the world was about to end.

It was about to get worse. When we got to the lobby, the receptionist informed Loose & Lanky that he had an important phone call waiting for him. He spoke for a few minutes, and then turned to us as he put down the receiver.

"Weeell, ain't that grand," he groaned. "Some happy couple got a present in their mail."

"What kind of present?" asked Lynne, although the tone in her voice suggested to me she'd rather not know.

"A human head," said Loose & Lanky, "with kindest regards courtesy of the Twister."

The Professor groaned, "He certainly has creative flair, I'll give him that."

"Ok," said Lynne, "where're we headed?"

As Loose & Lanky repeated the address, I felt the fur on my back stand on end, and I watched the colour drain from the Good Detective's face. The address was for Yomiel's apartment!

Leaving my body behind in the Good Detective's car, I once again found myself attached to Lynne's pink notebook, once again found myself visiting him under less than desirable circumstances. I had hoped to keep him out of this nightmare, but it seemed to have followed him anyway. Why? The Twister hadn't known about my existence until that dreadful meeting at the warehouse docks. And even if he was watching the detectives involved on the case, for all intents and purposes the Good Detective had only come round to pick up a runaway cat. Could it really just be a terrible coincidence?

I didn't have time to think about this once we entered his apartment. A forensic team were swarming the place, while he and his Fiancée were huddled together on the couch, a warm blanket wrapped around her shoulders. When I had seen her first, she had been so lively and cheerful – now? Her eyes were red and puffy, she was choking on her own sobs and she was shaking so hard. He was calm, by comparison, but I could see the fear in his eyes, he was trying his best to calm her but it didn't seem to be working very well.

Loose & Lanky recognised Yomiel immediately and was about to say something, but the Good Detective shook his head silently, so Loose & Lankly just faked a cough.

Lynne was the first to step forward, "I'm Detective Lynne," she gestured to Loose & Lanky and the Good Detective. "And these are my associates, Inspector Cabanela and Detective Jowd." Well, Lynne didn't seem to recognise who Yomiel was, which was probably for the best.

Yomiel, however, knew perfectly well who Lynne was, and I caught a flicker of guilt on his face, "I-I'm Yomiel, and this is Sissel, my wife."

The Fiancée looked up towards Lynne and the others and smiled weakly, "Mister Jowd… you never told us you were a detective."

Lynne turned towards the Good Detective, "You know them?"

"They were kind enough to look after Sissel when he went walkabout," explained the Good Detective, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well, uh…" Yomiel got up from his seat. "Can we just get this over with? I'd like to get us out of here…" he looked anxiously at his wife, "We could really use some fresh air."

"Sure," said Loose & Lanky. "What happened, exactly?"

"I was at work – Sissel had just got home. Then she called me, hysterical, so I rushed home as fast as I could." He gestured towards an open box on the kitchen table. "She told me she had found it on the doorstep and brought it inside to open it…"

Lynne, Loose & Lanky, and the Good Detective tentatively made their way towards the table. The three of them slowly peered into the box, and I made my way onto the Good Detective's badge so I could see for myself.

It was a human head alright; its mouth open in a mute scream, and its eyes had been removed leaving only a pair of hollow red sockets. This grizzly display was only made worse by the fact that the head had been wrapped in fluffy red tissue paper and placed carefully inside a white gift box with a red love heart print, all tied up with a red ribbon which now lay discarded on the floor.

"Man, what a sicko," Lynne mumbled.

"Lookie here," Loose & Lanky picked a small card out of the box, "He left us a note."

I recognised the handwriting as being the same as on the notes left for Lynne and Scrawny:

tO mY fAIR aND lOVELY bRIDE

yOUR fRIEND, tHE tWISTER

"Chaaarming."

"None of the victims we've found were decapitated," said the Good Detective. "We've got a headless body out their somewhere."

"Correction – a headless, soulless body," muttered Lynne. "I'm really starting to hate this case…"

While Lynne stayed behind with Loose & Lanky to further examine the head, the Good Detective went back to Yomiel and his Fiancée to talk to them. I couldn't help but listen in.

"I don't understand," said Yomiel, his head in his hands, "who would want to do this to her?" I couldn't help but noticed that Yomiel used 'her' instead of 'us', suggesting perhaps he felt he was deserving of receiving a severed head. In other words, he was covertly asking, 'Is this my fault?'

I didn't think so, and neither did the Good Detective, "I'd say the person who owns that head is wondering the same thing."

Yomiel sighed, and went back to his wife. "Come on Sissel," he said as he took her by the hand, "How about a walk in the Park?"

"Y-yeah… Ok." She was a little tottery as she stood up, but she made her way to the door with Yomiel's help. I felt awful, seeing her in such dreadful state.

I suddenly got a flash of inspiration – I have heard it mentioned that humans keep pets for their soothing qualities, and my body was in the car. The Fiancée had been appreciative of my company before, so why not now? It was the least I could do for an old friend.

"Lynne," I said to her, "ask the couple if they would like to pet me."

"Pet you?" Lynne looked thoughtful. "Y'know, that's actually a pretty good idea."

She told Loose & Lanky and the Good Detective, who happily agreed, then she went up to Yomiel and the Fiancée.

"Jowd was on his way back from the vet when we got the call," Lynne fibbed. "His cat's still in the car – would you like to see him?"

The Fiancée looked questioningly towards her husband.

"That would be wonderful," said Yomiel. "Thanks."

Lynne made sure I was back in my body before she took me out of my carry case and handed me to the Fiancée. Once I was in her hands, I began purring and rubbing away, and sure enough I was rewarded with a smile.

"I really appreciate this," Yomiel said to Lynne. "This mess was the last thing we needed."

"We're gonna find who did this," replied Lynne. "No one deserves to be terrorised like that."

Once again I saw that look of guilt flash across his face.

The Fiancée was pretty much back to her old self by this stage, so she wrapped me in the blanket and handed me back to Lynne.

"Thank you, for everything," said the Fiancée. She took Yomiel's arm and smiled up at him. "Didn't you promise me a trip to the Park?"

"Yeah," Yomiel smiled back at her. "Let's get going, shall we?"

The two of them walked off hand-in-hand. Lynne put my body back in the carry case as I repossessed her notebook. She started her way back to the apartment, folding the blanket as we went.

"They seem like a nice couple, don't they, Sissel?" Lynne said to me.

"Yeah," I answered. "They do."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Complications

When the Good Detective and I arrived home later that day, we found another headache waiting for us.

"I don't know what it is with this house today," tutted the Beloved Mother. "But every single electrical appliance seems to be on the fritz."

"You don't say." The Good Detective started to head out back. "I'll go check the fuse box."

Before he had a chance, the toaster spontaneously caught alight, and the Good Detective was rushing for the extinguisher. On a hunch, I switched into the Ghost World, and sure enough, I was able to intercept Toon-Face just before he could disable the refrigerator.

"What in the world is wrong with you?" I hissed. "Do you have any idea how much damage you've caused?"

"You left without warning," Toon-Faced grumbled. "And I started to get bored."

"Well I'm sorry, but you just can't go around terrorising people!" I snapped. "Least of all my family."

"Fine. Where have you been all day, anyway? Go to the vet and get a thermometer stuck up yer arse?"

I wanted to tell Toon-Face that I'd like to perform the aforementioned action on him, but he lacked the necessary orifice to do so.

"Look," I said, trying to regain my patience. "I've been busy trying to figure out who you are, amongst other things. It just so happens I have a human friend who is able to talk to you…"

"Hot dang! Finally, someone without fleas!"

"… We'll be going over to her apartment tomorrow…"

"Her?" Toon-Face's tone soured again. "Holy crap, you're setting me up with a skirt?"

"That 'skirt' happens to be a cop, thank you very much. And I would very much appreciate it if you treated her with a little respect."

"Fine, fine."

"And no more fooling with my family's stuff!"

"Ok, ok, I get it! Damn interfering fleabag…"

Sadly the next day brought very little in the way of improvement. I was dropped off at Lynne's apartment which had been cleaned up since the Twister's break in, although it was rather bare since some items were still at the forensics lab. While Loose & Lanky and the Good Detective investigated the headless body that had just been dredged from the harbour, Lynne and I decided to focus on trying to help Toon-Face recover his memory. First thing I did was to introduce the two.

"Lynne, this is… uh, well, actually, I'm not sure what his name is since he doesn't actually remember anything…"

Lynne looked at him thoughtfully. "His face kinda looks like a Daruma."

"A what?"

"A Daruma," she took a strange red, roly-poly doll off one her shelves and showed it to me. "You use them to make wishes. You see, when you make the wish," she pointed out its left eye, which had a black pupil, "you draw in the first eye." She then pointed out the right eye, which was a blank white like Toon-Face's, "Then when your wish is granted, you draw in the other eye. It's a good luck charm – I bought this one when we started the Twister case." She put the doll back on the shelf. "So let's call you Mister Daruma for now, ok?"

I was worried that Toon-Face would object to this idea in his usual discourteous fashion, but what he said next was ten times worse.

"Toots, you can call me whatever the damn hell you want." He spun round to face me. "YOW! Why didn't ya tell me she was such a fox?"

"Uh…" Lynne was stunned. "Excuse me?"

Toon-Face gave Lynne a look that made me very uncomfortable, "Tell me, sweetheart, ya don't happen to have a boyfriend now? I know my current circumstances are a little, well, challenging, but I'm sure you and I could work out some way to…"

"What the… Oh holy crap, NO!" Lynne jumped back, looking as if she was going to be sick. "Let's get one thing straight buddy, my only reason for having you here is to help you get you memory back, and the only reason for that is because those memories might help me out on a really tough case I'm working on right now. So you just quit your ogling and focus on what's important!"

"Oh toots, how can I focus?" Toon-Face drooled. "Those curves of yours are driving me to distraction…"

In my mind I was begging for the earth to open up and swallow me.

Lynne and I took turns showing Toon-Face files of people who had died in Temsik Park over the past ten years, hoping that something would trigger his memory. But Toon-Face's behaviour with me was no different from when I had tried showing him the photos of the Twister's victims, and with Lynne he simply refused to pay attention, instead he kept making obscene comments on her physical appearance.

Finally, Lynne and I had enough.

"Look, we'll just leave you with these files and you can look them over at your own pace," Lynne said as she got up from the table. "Let us know if you nee- I mean, let us know if you remember anything."

"I'll eagerly be awaiting for your return, toots."

"And quit calling me toots!" Lynne stamped over to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

Missile came up to me as flopped onto the couch.

"He's not very nice, is he?" said Missile.

"He's a nightmare!" I groaned. "All the trouble I went to get him and not so much as even a 'thankyou'!"

"Maybe he's just cranky about not having his memories?"

"Missile," I raised my head and looked him in the eye. "When I couldn't get my memories back, I'll admit I was pretty self-centred. But this guy has to be the single most obnoxious, fat-headed jerk I have ever encountered. I've wasted so much time and effort on him trying to get a lead on the Twister."

Missile jumped up onto the couch beside me. "You know, I just thought of something."

"Oh?"

"You know how you couldn't get your memories back because you thought you were the Man in Red?" Missile cocked his head thoughtfully. "Well, it turns out you two were friends anyway, right? So when you thought you were him, you weren't that far off, were you?"

I shifted myself up to look at him, "You're saying that funny face he's got on might be a clue?"

"I'm not sure; Lynne said he looked like that little red doll. Problem is I see those things all the time when Lynne takes me on my walks, they sell them everywhere."

"Well, it's a start, anyway. I'll go and ask him."

I jumped over towards the table where we had left him scanning the case files, but he wasn't there. I thought perhaps he was playing poltergeist again, so I scanned the place to see where hiding, but everything was empty. In fact the apartment was quiet, aside from the sound of the shower starting up…

Oh no.

"That no good, dirty-!" I leapt off the table and bolted for the bathroom.

"Sissel, wait for me!"

I got to the bathroom door and began scratching and banging and yowling away, hoping to get Lynne's attention. It seemed to work, because the sound of the water stooped, and I stepped back as Lynne opened the door and stepped into the hall, dressed only in a towel.

"Did Mister Daruma finally remember something?" she asked.

"No," I told her, trying to stay calm. "Lynne, whatever you do, do not have that shower!"

Lynne's eyes were bulging out of their sockets, "Oh gods, you don't mean... THAT PERVE!" Lynne leapt out of the bathroom as fast as she could, almost hysterical with rage. "Where is he, where's the dirty little creep!"

I took a look in the bathroom and saw him – "There! In the loofah!"

Lynne turned to the Valiant Pet and pointed forcefully towards the possessed loofah, "Missile! KILL!"

Loyal little Missile charged into the bathroom, barking and yapping, he tore down the loofah in his little teeth and shook the thing violently, paying no head as Toon-Face screamed bloody murder.

After Lynne had changed into less revealing attire, it was time to take Toon-Face's punishment a step further. Toon-Face, still in the loofah, was dangled from Missile's mouth over the toilet bowl, while Lynne's hand was on the flusher and I grilled the ghost over his ungracious behaviour.

"Aw c'mon toots, what's yer problem?" Toon-Face whined. "When I see a hot young thing like yerself I just can't…"

"Save it!" I snapped. "I have been driving myself crazy trying to figure out who the hell you are, and what do you do? It was bad enough when you were just griping, and even when you were messing with the appliances, that I can handle, but-but THIS?" I was in such a state that my claws had come out and were digging into the toilet seat. "You sound like a grown adult, but you behave like a selfish, spoiled child!"

"Well!" huffed Toon-Face. "Maybe my memory's not back yet coz you're not trying hard enough."

That did it. I had been reasonable and accommodating, I had gotten beat up by feline thugs, I had seen a man die and been unable to do damn thing about it, my best friend and his wife had just been dragged into a horror story, and tying all this together was a murdering madman who was nigh invulnerable!

"You want your memories back?" I snarled. "Fine!" I snatched the loofah from Missile and headed back to the living room, he and Lynne close behind me.

I took the one file I had withheld from Toon-Face, opened it up and spilled its contents on to the table. Once again, the tormented faces of the Twister's victims started up at me, their grisly ends displayed in full colour, crisp and clear. I slammed the loofah on the table next to them so Toon-Face could get a good, hard look. Maybe the Professor was right, maybe Toon-Face was just some random dead guy, but I hoped that showing him the crime-scene photos would shock some manners into him, and it seemed to be working.

"D-dear gods," Toon-Face stammered weakly.

"Reality bites, don't it?" I hissed. "I don't know exactly how you died, but it probably wasn't even half the hell that these people went through! You see what I'm dealing with here?"

"I-I don't know anything…"

"I don't have time for your bull! If you're not going to even try to help yourself, I might as well through you out in the trash right now-"

"I DON'T KNOW ABOUT ANY SOUL-EATING MANIAC!"

I stopped short, trying to process what I just heard. "Wh… what did you just say…?"

"I said I don't know about any…" Toon-Face tried to make himself shrink as he realised his mistake. "Oh crap."

"You said you knew nothing," I hissed. "You said you saw nothing. I showed you those faces half a dozen times and you didn't bat an eye. Have you simply been screwing me around?"

For the first time since I met him, Toon-Face was too humbled to think of a nasty comeback.

I drew myself in closer, "If you do know something about what happened to these people, now's the time to tell me. Trust me; it's the fastest way to get your memories back."

Toon-Face didn't answer. I was just about to start grilling him again, when something bizarre happened. There was a flash, and his eyes had… changed. They were still blank white starting dots, but now they were covered in thin, criss-crossing lines as if someone had tried to scratch them out. This uncanny appearance and the speed at which had occurred unnerved me so much that I momentarily forgot my anger.

"What is it?" I asked him in alarm. "Are you alright?"

Toon-Face flared up again, and the scratches on his eyes left as quickly as they had appeared. "You-you… You insolent flea-bitten hairball!" Before I could stop him, he'd jumped into Lynne's phone. "I don't need this crap! I'll find who I am by myself!"

Down the phone line he went, gone in the blink of an eye. I felt my rage boil over, so I grabbed Lynne's notebook and began ripping the blank pages.

"Hey!" Lynne snatched the book of me, "I've got important stuff in there!"

"Like what?" I snarled. "Your grocery list?"

Lynne's stunned look told me that I had gone too far, so I sprawled myself across the table and sighed, "I'm sorry Lynne, that was out of line. I know you're working hard and you're frustrated …"

"I take it things didn't go too well with the perv Daruma."

"No, he's taken off down the phone. He could be anywhere by now."

"Hey, it's not so bad," Lynne pulled up a seat and allowed Missile to jump into her lap. "Like the Professor said, he's probably just some bum who died before that freaky rock was removed."

I shook my head. "I'm afraid that's simply not the case. Lynne, he knew about the devouring of the souls, and I never mentioned them."

Lynne's eyes grew wide, "No way!"

"He's been stringing me along all this time," I groaned. "All that effort, and just as I was getting somewhere! I blew it, Lynne. I scared him off."

Lynne sighed and gave me a stroke behind the ears. "That's just police work, little buddy," she said. "We get pain-in-the-ass witnesses like that all the time, even Jowd and Cabanela have a hard time keeping their cool with those kinds of guys."

Missile licked my paw. "Cheer up, Sissile. You and Miss Lynne are gonna catch the bad guy, I just know it!"

We all really needed to cool off, so that evening the Good Detective organised a special treat – a trip to the Chicken Kitchen. He even booked an outside table so Missile and I could come along. The Good Detective and his family were seated at one end of the table, while at the other end Lynne sat with Loose & Lanky. Missile and I were on the floor, our leashes secured to the table legs.

"It's lovely and clear tonight," the Beloved Mother said cheerfully. "And this restaurant is so charming."

"I know," Lynne grinned. "Memry and I hang here all the time."

"Memry comes here?" the Good Detective looked puzzled. "I thought she hated chicken."

"She does, but she has this major crush on the barkeep. She practically forces herself to eat that chicken, but he never takes any notice of her."

The Good Detective shook his head, "An odd girl, that one."

"I agree," said Lynne.

Me too, I thought.

"Anywaaaay," Loose & Lanky shifted in his seat. "Isn't about time we ordered?"

"Good idea, I'm starving!" Lynne leaned over and called out to the nearby waitress. "'Scuse me, miss? We're ready to order now – oh!"

Who would you believe came to serve us, dressed in that uniform and greeting us with a smile?

"Oh my," said the Fiancée. "I certainly didn't expect to see you again so soon, Officers."

The Good Detective laughed, "On no, Miss Sissel, there's no need for that whole officer bit, we're off duty."

"Sissel?" the Little Lady put down her colouring book. "Is that really your name?"

"Just like your cat," Lynne said cheerfully. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"He's here with us tonight," the Little Lady bent down and picked me up to show the Fiancée, "Here Sissel, meet the other Sissel!"

"We've already met," the Fiancée said smiling, as she took out a note pad and pen. "But I can't spend my time socialising when you're all probably starving! What would you like to order for this evening?"

Lynne and the others placed their orders, and the Fiancée wrote them down on that little notepad.

"I'll see if I can rustle up anything special for little Sissel and his little doggie friend," said the Fiancée, winking at me. "By the way, I wasn't really able to thank you for your help yesterday…"

"It was nothing, really," said Lynne.

"Juuuust doing our jobs," said Loose & Lanky.

"Oh no! You were all so kind, I have to make it up to you somehow," the Fiancée looked thoughtful. "I'm sure my boss would be able to give you a discount if I explained it all to him, even if he takes it out of my pay check."

"Oh now reeeeally," Loose & Lanky's face went red, "That's not necessary…"

"Sorry, but my mind's made up," the Fiancée shut her notebook. "I'll bring out your drinks and the entries in a minute, and your main meal should be out not long after. Have a nice night." And before Lynne or anyone else could protest, she had scooted off to the kitchen.

"Great," groaned Lynne. "Now feel like a louse…"

"I'm surprised you haven't seen her here before, Lynne," said the Good Detective.

"Well, I usually come here around lunch and they have a different waitress then," Lynne replied. "Though I wonder whether she's really ok to be working tonight…"

I don't really remember where the conversation went from there; I was more interested in chasing the beetles crawling on the floor. We weren't waiting long when there came a horrendous crash. Everyone turned to see what had happened – inside the restaurant the Fiancée had fallen on her face, dropping a huge platter of curried chicken all over the floor.

"Oh… Oh no!" the Fiancée picked herself up and turned to the customer who had ordered the curried chicken, who I recognised as 'Sausage Head' from the Fateful Night. I felt a little bad for him as he sat there looking miserably at what would've been his meal.

"I-I'm so sorry!" the Fiancée sputtered as she cleared up the mess. "I'll get you another one right away – and don't worry, this one is on the house!"

It didn't get any better for the poor Fiancée –when she came to deliver the drinks to our table, she once again tripped over, spilling beverages all over us and sending glass smashing on the floor.

"Oh, oh! I-I'm so sorry!"

"It's ok, really," said the Beloved Mother as she tried to squeeze red wine out of her scarf.

"I don't know what's wrong with me tonight – I'll make it up to you, I promise!" the Fiancée got on her knees and began picking up pieces of shattered glass. "Your drinks are on the house!"

"A liiiittle too generous for her own good, that one," mused Loose & Lanky.

We got our drinks eventually, but things didn't get much better for the Fiancée. She seemed to always be tripping over her own feet, spilling items on customers or breaking just about anything she touched.

"Yeesh, if she keeps this up, she's gonna end up owing this place money," Lynne quipped.

Truth be told, I thought it was all a little… off. If I hadn't known any better, I'd have almost said the Fiancée was doing it all on purpose!

Things reached breaking point when the Fiancée was delivering a bowl of salad to a well-dressed group of people not far from where we were seated. Right on cue, the Fiancée tripped over again, sending bits of tomato and lettuce and who knows what else flying everywhere.

"What are you, wasted or something?" snapped a heavily-made up young lady with shocking pink hair. "This gown is dry clean only!"

"I-I'm so sorry, Miss," the Fiancée was almost in tears by this stage. "I'll pay for the bill…"

"Hah! Like you could ever afford it!" the pink prima-donna rose threateningly from her seat.

Another member of the group, gentle-faced young man with violet hair swept back into a ponytail, dressed in blue evening wear, reached out his hand to the pink prima-donna in an effort to calm her, "Now dear, don't you think you're overreacting just a little…?"

The pink prima-donna tore herself free from the soft-spoken gentleman and lunged towards the Fiancée, "I oughta tear you apart, you filthy rotten-!"

At this Lynne and the others rushed over in order to prevent things from getting too ugly, but I barely noticed this. My attention was more focused on the fact that the piece of loose carpet that the Fiancée had tripped over had just lowered itself back into place.

Stunned, I switched into the Ghost World just to make sure. I gave the area a quick scan, but I didn't see anything out the ordinary. Maybe I'd just imagined it.

As returned to the world of the living, things had calmed down slightly. Lynne was helping the pink prima-donna to mop herself up, while the Fiancée tried to clean up the mess through her sobs. The restaurant's owner, the Jovial Tenor, was at her side, trying to console her.

"Sissel dear girl, let me call your husband," he said to her. "I told myself this would happen! It's too soon, I said! For you to return to work after what you've been through, poor girl…"

"No, please sir…" the Fiancée coughed. " I'm ok, really, I can work."

"Are you sure? I won't dock your pay."

"No, no! I can't let you do that, you've already been so generous to me," she got up, her arms loaded with broken crockery. "I'm so sorry for everything; I'll try harder to focus from now on."

No sooner had she walked off, the delivery trolley rolled its way into her path, causing her to run into it with such force that she knocked it over and sent it crashing to the floor.

"Sissel!" the Valiant Doggie turned to me in a state of great excitement. "Did you see that trolley?"

"You saw it too? I thought I was just imaging things!"

"Maybe it's Toon-Face!"

I jumped back into the Ghost World and looked around frantically. Not once did I see a blue flame, near the cart or anywhere else. I knew something had moved that cart, Missile had seen it too, but I was picking up nothing.

I once again returned to the world of the living, where the Fiancée was on the verge on tearing her hair out as Lynne helped her to her feet.

"Sissel, I really think you should take your boss up on his offer and head on home."

"No! I-I can do this," the Fiancée got back on her knees and starting collecting the scattered cutlery. "I have to stay strong, I have too…AAHHH!"

That scream came as the Fiancée sliced her knee on the broken glass that had literally rolled itself into her path. As blood started pouring from the open wound, I jumped into the Ghost World once more, this time zipping all over the place in a mad effort to find the troublesome ghost.

"I know you're here!" I cried, "I don't know what the hell your problem is but you'd better show yourself if you know what's good for you!"

I must've spent a minute or so of fruitless searching before I returned to my body, frustrated and confused. I knew a ghost was responsible for the Fiancée's 'accidents'; there was simply no other explanation. I had switched into the Ghost World only seconds after it had performed a Trick, but there was nothing. I knew a ghost, given time, could learn to hide itself from the view of other spirits. I had seen this trick in the other timeline, and I myself had perfected it other the course of ten years. But at this rate, there was not point in speculating. I knew I had been outsmarted, and there was nothing more I could do.

When I got back, defeated and despondent, a clean napkin had been used as a temporary bandage while someone fetched the First-Aid Kit, and the Vocal Tenor was on the phone to Yomiel. The poor Fiancée was sobbing hysterically while the Beloved Mother did her best to console her.

The Jovial Tenor put down the phone and walked over to Lynne. "Poor girl, after all she's been through, I knew having her work tonight was a bad idea…"

Lynne just shrugged, "Well, I'm sure she'll be okay once her husband gets her home."

"Such a sad story, that girl," the Jovial Tenor continued. "Her husband, it's been a year since he got out of prison, you know!"

Lynne looked stunned, "Really?"

"Ten years he spent there! Used to work for the government apparently, but something happened one day, he went crazy."

Loose & Lanky and the Good Detective were frantically signalling to the Jovial Tenor to stop, but by now he was in full swing and it looked as if nothing could stop him.

"Apparently he stole a gun from the police," said the Jovial Tenor. "He got as far as the park, but they caught up with him, so he snatched a little girl, would you believe it? Threatened to shoot her!"

Lynne's expression switched from astonishment to suppressed rage as she recognised her story.

"Amazingly she's stuck by him," concluded the Jovial Tenor, shaking his head. "She must either be out of her mind or some sort of saint, that girl."

"You don't say," growled Lynne. She shot her mentors a venomous glance, and the two detectives looked as if they just wanted to disappear.

So much for leaving the past behind.

Yomiel arrived just a few minutes later. He didn't even notice Lynne's glare of contempt as he rushed to be by his wife's side.

"Are you ok?"

The Fiancée shook her head sadly, "I can't afford time off, you know that…"

"Then I'll just ask for overtime," Yomiel replied. "C'mon, I'll call a cab and get you to a doctor."

As they left, the Jovial Tenor sighed and started to work on cleaning up his restaurant, and the Beloved Mother took the Little Lady into the bathroom so they could both get washed up. Lynne's mentors did their best to avoid her death glares. Meanwhile, I took to trying to unpick the knot that held me to the table.

Missile watched me with some concern "Um… whatcha doing?"

"I think Yomiel ought to know about that ghost," I replied as I tried to get myself loose from the table. "I just need to talk to him quickly, ok?"

I was finally able to unclip my collar from the lead.

"Dogs have a good sense of smell right?" I asked him before dashing off. "Just track my scent and get Lynne to follow you when everything's settled here, but right now I've got to talk with Yomiel."

"Good luck, Sissel!"

I was worried that they might've gotten a cab already before I had a chance to talk to him, but I then I heard a ruckus coming from the direction of Temsik Park. I could make out the voices of Yomiel and his Fiancée, and there was a third that I thought I recognised but wasn't so sure of.

I followed the voices to the fountain and was greeted with a most unpleasant scene. Yomiel was in a rage; he had gotten hold of someone by the throat and was forcing their head into the fountain jets, causing the captive to cough and splutter as they struggled for air. The Fiancée was standing back a few feet, frantically begging her husband to stop.

I had almost forgotten how frightening Yomiel could be when he was angry. What I certainly hadn't forgotten was the damage caused as a result, granted he had the Temsik fragment at the time, but still. I decided to put a stop to this nonsense before Yomiel ended up doing something he was bound to regret. I jumped up on the fountain ledge and got close enough for me to give him a quick swipe across the face with my claws. Yomiel gave a yelp as he let his hostage drop into the water with a splash.

With that taken care of, jumped to Yomiel's core to talk some sense into him, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Yomiel blinked stupidly before he answered, "What am I-? That creep's been following us since we left the restaurant; I was trying to protect my wife!"

"So… you drown him, get arrested, end up back in jail, probably for good this time, and that helps her how exactly?"

Yomiel looked stunned for a few seconds, but in the end he simply hung his head in shame.

"Yeah," I said. "That's what I thought."

I returned to my body just in time to prevent it from falling into the fountain. As Yomiel paced back towards his wife, still nursing the cut on his cheek, I turned to check on unlucky fellow he had been so intent on drowning. He was soaked through and a little tenderised, but by now I would've recognised the Scrawny Snooper just about anywhere. Boy, this guy sure knew how to piss people off.

It seemed that I wasn't the only one attracted by the commotion – not too far in the distance I saw a group rushing up towards us, led by a man I recognised as the self-appointed 'Guardian of the Park'. He was jumping up and down excitedly and pointing towards us. Close behind him were Lynne, Loose & Lanky and the Good Detective.

"Here, here! This is where it came from!" the Guardian cried out in his distinctive sing-song. "Cries of distress, roars of anger, ripping through the clear, still night like a -!"

"Yeah, yeaaaah, we get it," Loose & Lanky dismissed the Guardian with a wave of his hand.

Lynne rushed up to the Fiancée. "Hey, you ok?" she jerked her thumb towards Yomiel. "He didn't hurt you or anything, did he?"

"What? No!" the Fiancée was horrified by this suggestion. "Yomiel just caught this man following us, and…"

Scrawny managed to drag himself out of the water, "Like I said, I wasn't following you; we were just headed the same way is all!"

"Like hell you were!" snarled Yomiel, clenching his fists. "This pervert had his camera on us the whole damn time!"

"Oh c'mon, are you hearing this guy?" Scrawny threw up his arms and rolled his eyes. "You can't honestly tell me you can take a guy with such wacked-out hair even the least bit serio–what ah HEY!"

The Good Detective had snatched up Scrawny's duffle bag and began rummaging through its contents. He pulled out a handful of photographs began shuffling through them, shaking his head as his did so, and Lynne and Loose & Lanky looked over the Good Detective's shoulder.

"Classy, Rennie my boy, reeeal classy," said Loose & Lanky.

I was curious, so I climbed up the Good Detective's trench coat and leapt up onto his shoulder to see the photos for myself. They were of Yomiel and his Fiancée alright, taken from a distance and telling from the green fuzz in the foreground while Scrawny was hiding in the bushes. The pictures seemed to be in sequence, I could see the exact moment that Yomiel and the Fiancée realised they were being tailed, followed by an incensed Yomiel rushing towards Scrawny's hiding place. The last photo was nothing but a blur, presumably when Yomiel grabbed him. The photos at the Park weren't the only ones, either – several of the photos were either of Yomiel or the Fiancée during the day, meaning that Scrawny had been stalking them for some time. Classy, indeed.

Knowing he'd been caught, Scrawny began fidgeting nervously as Lynne, Loose & Lanky and the Good Detective rounded on him.

"So Rennie," Lynne said in a syrupy tone. "I, uh, never realised you liked to watch."

"Oh for pete's sake, no!" Scrawny's anxiety was replaced with disgust. "I was following a lead on the Twister case!"

The Guardian jumped at the mention of the elusive murderer, "The Twister? You mean the vile demon that violated the landing site of the Sacred Rock of the…?"

The Good Detective hushed him, and then turned back to Scrawny, "What on earth are you babbling about?"

"Oh c'mon, some chick gets a head in the mail with hugs and kisses, that's gotta be worth something."

Yomiel exploded and made a dive for Scrawny's throat, "You sonnova bitch, I'm gonna kick your-!"

The Fiancée let out a shriek, and the Good Detective jumped into action, grabbing Yomiel before he could do anything stupid, although in the process I was shaken loose from my perch on the former's shoulder and into the fountain pool. Scrawny ducked behind Loose & Lanky, who made it clear he didn't appreciate being used as a human shield.

"Let me go!" Yomiel shouted as he struggled against the Good Detective's grip, "I'm gonna kill him!"

"Calm yourself brother," the Guardian began his manic twirling, "For remember, the land we stand upon now is those most sacred of sites…"

"Oh will you shut up!" Lynne snapped, before rounding on Yomiel, "And you! Cool your grits before I lock you up for another ten freaking years!"

The colour drained from Yomiel's face and he stopped struggling. The Good Detective let Yomiel go as he shot Lynne a warning look.

Lynne paid no heed to this, simply folding her arms and shooting Yomiel an icy glare. "What's the matter? Didn't you recognise me? Or were you too busy holding a gun to my head to get a good look at my face?"

"That's enough, Lynne!" snapped the Good Detective.

The Fiancée was pale and shaking. Yomiel was too ashamed to even look at her.

"Better get that cab," he muttered as he took his wife by the hand and led her away.

There were a few moments of awkward silence. I pulled myself out of the fountain and did my best to shake myself dry.

"So," said Scrawny, shuffling his feet. "Can I have my stuff back?"

The Good Detective glared at him, but he finally handed Scrawny his duffle bag.

"And my photos?"

The Good Detective growled, but he made to hand over the photos to Scrawny – before ostensibly changing his mind and tossing them in the fountain instead.

"Hey!" Scrawny made a mad grab for the photos, but it was too late, they fell into the pool and the images slowly began to warp and fade. "Geez man, that's my pay check right there!"

"You're breaking my heart," the Good Detective snorted. "C'mon, we'd better be headed back."

"Oh no!" Lynne crossed here arms and scowled at her mentors. "I didn't say anything back at the restaurant because I didn't want to make a scene. Why the hell didn't tell me that Yomiel guy was the one who kidnapped me ten years ago! Hell, I never even knew he's been let out of jail!"

The Good Detective and Loose & Lanky glanced at each other, seemingly at a loss as where to go from here.

"Iiiii'll talk to her," Loose & Lanky finally sighed, "You head back before Alma and Kamila start fretting. Get them home."

The Good Detective turned to me and lifted me up from the ledge. "Thanks for your show support," he grumbled. "Running off like that…"

It was then it hit me that I'd forgotten to Yomiel about the ghost that'd been tormenting his wife! I was mentally hitting myself as the Good Detective walked us back towards the restaurant. In the distance Lynne and Loose & Lanky could be heard arguing, with the occasional unwelcome interjection from Scrawny and the Guardian.

A gun shot rang out.

It alarmed me so that I dug my claws into the Good Detective's arm. As he gently pried me off, he turned around and headed back for the fountain, letting out a sigh.

"This was just supposed to be a quiet dinner."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Feeling the Blues

Somehow during all commotion Loose & Lanky had been dunked into the fountain and Lynne was trying to pull him out. Scrawny was sprawled out on the ground, a bloody hole in his back and showing no signs of life. The Guardian wasn't handling the situation well at all, dancing madly like he was being attacked by a swarm of ants.

"Cursed, cursed! The Park is cursed!" he cried. "The Gods are punishing us for removing the sacred Rock from its hallowed resting place!"

Lynne just rolled her eyes as she helped Loose & Lanky back to his feet. The Good Detective knelt down beside Scrawny and placed two fingers two his neck – a method humans use to check if someone is still alive, apparently. Eventually the Good Detective just shook his head.

"No use, he's gone," he said sadly. "Just what happened anyway?"

"Dunno," said Lynne, a little dazed. "He just shouted all of a sudden and shoved me into the ground."

Loose & Lanky was squeezing fountain water out of his red scarf, "Shoved me too, whiiiich is how I ended up in the pool." He turned to the Good Detective. "So much for time-off, huh? We'd better call HQ for back up."

"Hold that thought," the Good Detective helped me down from his shoulder. "He isn't dead until Sissel says so."

Loose & Lanky rolled his eyes, "Of couuuurse, the undead cat."

Lynne knelt down beside me, "Whaddaya say, Sissel? Think you can bring him back? I mean, the guy's a complete jerk but still…"

"As long as he has a core it's possible," I told her. "And I might just find where that gunshot came from. You here won't remember anything though."

Scrawny did have a core, since the Twister wasn't around. I doubt he'd be the type to use a gun anyway. I decided not to bother trying to wake up Scrawny's sleeping soul and get straight to business, rewinding time to look for clues.

I easily recognised the beginning of the four minutes as I watched a despondent Yomiel lead the limping Fiancée towards the main road. From there things went as I remembered them, up until the Good Detective and I were headed back to the restaurant. I wondered what it might be like to try and communicate with my past self, but I had no time for silly frivolities like that. I did, however, manage to listen in on Lynne's argument with Loose & Lanky.

"Just what the hell is going on?" Lynne stood straight and stiff, her fists were clenched tight. "Why would you two keep something like this from me?"

"Lynne, baby," Loose & Lanky sighed and sat on the fountain ledge, "it's a looong story…"

"Uh, hello?" Scrawny tried to catch their attention. "Isn't anyone gonna do anything about my photos?"

Loose & Lanky scowled. "Rennie boy, I'm waaaarning you – scram."

"What about that girl?" Lynne gestured in the direction Yomiel and the Fiancée had walked off. "Isn't she worried about being married to an ex-con?"

"Baby, life isn't aaaaalways black and white…"

"What's so difficult about it?" Lynne took her anger on a nearby soda can, kicking it hard enough to send it flying towards a grove of trees a little away from where the group was standing. "Ten years ago I was here roasting sweet potatoes and the guy sticks gun in my face, does Sissel know about this?"

The Guardian piped in, "Sister, am I to understand you were here on the blessed day when the Rock of the Gods fell from the…?"

Here, Loose & Lanky and Lynne rounded angrily on the Guardian, shouting in almost perfect synchronisation, "Will you just shut up and go already?"

"Come on, seriously!" Scrawny slapped his forehead. "Banana-head nearly drowned me, and I'm pretty sure I can sue fuzz face back there for –" suddenly, Scrawny's expression turned from anger to shock and horror, his gaze fixated on the grove where the soda can had landed. "Oh holy shit GET DOWN!" Without warning, he jumped between Lynne and Loose & Lanky, shoving them either to the ground, or into the fountain in Loose & Lanky's case.

A shot rang out, and Scrawny crumpled to the ground. Well, it seemed that despite his reputation for irritating people, Scrawny did have some moral standards.

"Ain't yer little on the cute and cuddly side fer the Grim Reaper?"

I turned around – Scrawny had come to, and from the looks of him he'd had no trouble remembering who he was.

"I'm the dead guy, right?" Scrawny continued. "So how'd I do, do I go to heaven? Hell? Purgatory, reincarnation, what? Oh, or is that not your department?"

"Oh no," I said calmly. "This is all just a bad dream. In a minute or two you'll wake up and-"

"No I'm pretty sure I'm dead, I mean, I'm not breathing or any of that normal living shit…"

I rolled my eyes and went back down the path of time to the beginning of the events prior to Scrawny's death. Scrawny just stood there, staring apathetically.

"Do we have to watch this again?"

"You're watching," I replied. "I'm doing."

I started at foot at the fountain, where Scrawny had fallen. I looked towards the grove of trees that had attracted his attention.

"Is that where you saw the man with the gun?"

"Well, I didn't see who was holding it, but yeah, I saw something reflecting and when I looked I saw a gun nozzle."

"Ok then," I reached out towards the discarded soda can, "Let's see what's over there then."

Lynne kicked the can like she did before, and before I knew it I was flying through the air. The can landed not too far away from the grove, but I still couldn't see anything so I made the can roll so I could go in for a closer look. Scrawny watched this with some interest.

"Can I do freaky poltergeist shit like that, or is it a cat-only sorta thing?"

"What does it matter, you're dreaming, remember?"

"If I'm really dreaming, then make something fun happen, like a UFO or a fire-breathing dragon or something."

The can reached the edge of the bushes, and I could see the nozzle of the gun barrel.

"Okay," I looked around for an item I could jump for, "now to stop this guy from shooting you…"

I finally found a mouldy old shoe half-buried in the roots, not my preferred choice but you can't be picky when lives are at stake. From this vantage point, I could see the face of the would-be assassin – that dark grey fedora, overhanging a long pointed nose and that pale blue skin…

"Jeego?"

No, this one was Tengo, I could tell by his glasses and the type of gun he was carrying.

"Sorry Jeego, but I'm gonna nab that first-kill bonus whether you like it or not," he snickered. "Now who first, the red-head or the disco reject?"

Well, we'll just see about that! Looking around for a solution, I couldn't help but notice the absence of a certain grumpy orange cat and wishing I could make use of him again…

"Wait a sec," Scrawny said, "You mean to say you sicked that feral mutant on me?"

It was sometimes easy to forget the lack of privacy of one's thoughts in the Ghost World. "Well, it was either that or let you and Lynne die in a car crash."

"Wait, what?"

"Shush, I'm trying to focus…"

I then noticed that parked next to Tengo was a little black motorised scooter. Bingo! Originally I wouldn't have been able to possess an object this large, but time had strengthened my Ghost Tricks somewhat, so a little scooter like this was a cinch. I felt a little mischievous as I took control of the vehicle and kicked it into gear. Tengo heard the hum of the engine and turned to his machine, confused. Quickly I hit the accelerator, speeding right into his face. Naturally, Tengo jumped up with a yelp and ran off, and I gave chase, steering the little scooter to keep on his tail.

We went around in circles like this for a moment or two, Tengo screaming madly as he tried to shake me off. Eventually he grabbed his gun and fired several shots at me, puncturing a tire as well as the fuel tank, and ending my little escapade.

"Stupid new-fangled gadgetry!" fumed Tengo. He looked towards the Temsik fountain. "There goes the element of surprise. Aw beans, Commander Sith's gonna have my head for this…"

Sith. There was a name I never wanted to hear again.

From my place in the bullet-riddled scooter, I could see Lynne and the others making their way over to investigate the commotion. Tengo saw them, they saw Tengo. His bullets wasted on his scooter, Tengo took off down the street like a bat out of hell before anyone could reach him.

"Heeeey!" Loose & Lanky hollered after him. "You get back heeere!"

Too late. Tengo had vanished into the night.

"Well," I turned to Scrawny, "I do hope you enjoyed this little dream. Have a nice day!"

We returned to the present. Scrawny, disorientated and confused, patted himself down just to make sure he was really there. "Oh man, I gotta lay off on those brownies…"

In the distance I could see the Good Detective rushing up, "What happened? I heard gunshots."

"Yeah, so did we," Lynne pointed towards the direction Tengo had run off. "Some blue guy with a gun took out his frustrations on this scooter for some reason…"

The Good Detective was alarmed, "Did you just say 'blue guy'?"

Scrawny caught sight of my limp body hanging in the Detective's arms, "Uh dude is that cat… dead?"

Loose & Lanky folded his arms, "Call me craaazy, but was Little Boy Blue planning to use that piece of his on one of us?"

Lynne eyes widened in horror, "Oh gods – a sniper rifle… And we let him get away. Ugh!"

"Cursed, cursed! The Park is cursed!" the Guardian spun around madly, leaving me to I wonder how on earth he never got motion sickness. "The Gods are punishing us for removing the sacred Rock from its-!"

"Oh shut up! Does no-one give a shit that fuzz-face is carrying a DEAD CAT?"

Things were getting out of hand, so I took hold of the scooter's horn and gave a loud honk, causing everyone to jump. The Good Detective, realising I had given him a sign, walked up to my location in the scooter and pretended to inspect the scooter, allowing me access back to my body. Scrawny looked on in disbelief as I opened my eyes and twitched my ears.

"Narcolepsy," said the Good Detective. "Now, my colleagues and I have important, private business to discuss. If you'll excuse me, I should get back to the restaurant." He turned to Loose & Lanky. "And I assume I can meet you and Lynne back at HQ once I've taken Alma and Kamila home?"

"Wait," Lynne snapped, "What about-?"

"Not noooow, Lynne," growled Loose & Lanky.

Lynne got the hint, but from the way she scowled I could tell she wasn't happy. Scrawny was still gawking at me as the Good Detective and I made our way back to the restaurant. I got the uncomfortable feeling that my attempt to dupe him had failed, and with his stubborn, determined nature, he could turn out to be a real nuisance. Well, I was certain I could handle him. What really worried me was the return of the blue-skinned spies. What on earth were they doing here?

The next day proved my suspicions. I was at home with the Little Lady and Beloved Mother when there was a knock at the door. The Little Lady and I watched as Beloved Mother opened it, and lo and behold, there was Scrawny, a bunch of flowers in one hand, a box of chocolates in the other, and a big, phony smile plastered across his face.

"Morning ma'am," he said with forced cheer. "Reynard Charivari at yer service. I understand this is the house of a certain Detective Jowd?"

Beloved Mother folded her arms and gave Scrawny a suspicious sideways glance, "I'm his wife. He's not home at the moment."

"Oh gee, that's too bad! You see, I work for 'Tough Truths' magazine…" Scrawny tried to make his way inside, but the Beloved Mother stood her ground in the doorway. He gave a nervous cough before continuing. "Like I said, I'm a reporter for 'Tough Truths', and I was hoping to get an insight into the wonderful work your husband does for the community!"

"With perhaps a few little titbits on a certain high-profile case?" said the Beloved Mother, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, yes! I mean, uh… If you happen to have anything along those lines, I'm sure our faithful readers would greatly appreciate it." He caught sight of me in the hallway, and nearly jumped out of his pants in his attempt to get past the Beloved Mother to get at me. "Oh my gosh, is your cat? Aw but he's just the cutest little-!"

"Mister Charivari!" Beloved Mother stamped her foot on the ground.

This sudden display of anger was rare for the Beloved Mother. It was enough to stun Scrawny from his sycophantic sweet talk.

Beloved Mother looked him straight in the eye, "Let me tell you something, young man – being married to a police detective, you learn a few things. And one of the first things I learned was how to recognise dirt bag reporters. Now, my husband will be home any minute, and you'd better be gone by that time or you won't be able to sit for a week!"

"B-but I…" Scrawny sputtered. "Aw c'mon, just a few words for the yeee-OW!"

Beloved Mother rolled her eyes and reopened the door long enough for Scrawny to recover his squashed fingers from the frame, but quickly slammed it back in his face.

"Dammit lady! These flowers and shit were worth like twenty packs of instant noodles!"

The Little Lady giggled, "The funny man said some bad words."

The Beloved Mother glared at the door and went back into the kitchen to finish the chocolate cheesecake she had been working on, while the Little Lady and I resumed playing with my catnip mouse. However, not five minutes after there came another knock at the door.

Beloved Mother didn't answer the door straight away, but instead snuck over to the window and carefully peeked outside. Her frustrated groan told me all I needed to know.

"Kamila sweetie, do mommy a big favour and don't answer the door."

"Unless I peek through the window first, right?"

"Yes. And if it's that stupid reporter…"

"Don't worry Mom; I won't let anyone in unless it's Daddy or one of his friends."

"Good girl."

Almost immediately after this exchange, there was a third knock at the door. The Little Lady and the Beloved Mother looked at each other, unsure of what to do. But the Beloved Mother, in a flash of inspiration, picked up the chocolate cheesecake and gave her daughter a wicked smile.

"Kamila, I want you to stand by the door, and when I say 'now', open it for me please."

The Little Lady understood immediately what her mother had planned, "Sure thing mom!"

Oh boy, I just had to see this!

The Beloved Mother and the Little Lady took their positions at the door; the Little Lady's hand was on the knob, her eyes focused on her mother, while the Beloved Mother stood in the doorway, holding the cake at eye level. All was silent. Then there came another knock.

"Now!"

The Little Lady flung the door open, and with superb aim the Beloved Mother landed the cake dead-on – right in the face of her husband.

You could've heard a pin drop. Beloved Mother stared in horror as the Good Detective slowly wiped the cake from his eyes.

"Oh my stars," Beloved Mother gasped. "Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry…"

The Little Lady couldn't contain herself any longer; she doubled over and burst in laughter. The Good Detective, while undoubtedly caught off-guard, showed he hadn't lost his sense of humour as he licked the splattered cake off his fingers.

"Did I forget an anniversary or something, dear?"

"N-no, I thought you were that horrid reporter."

"Oh, yes, I did see him sulking around as I came in. He was bothering you?"

"I was able to handle him, don't worry."

The Good Detective chuckled and dabbed a glob of cheesecake on his wife's nose, "By wasting a perfectly good cheesecake?"

The Beloved Mother's face went red and she dragged her husband into the kitchen to help him wash up .By this time the Little Lady was laughing so hard that there were tears in her eyes and she had fallen to the floor. I had to admit, seeing the Good Detective with cookies crumbs and lumps of cream cheese tangled in his beard was pretty hilarious.

With my body safely tucked away in the Good Detective's sock drawer, I was able to accompany him to the police headquarters. Lynne had calmed down a little since last night, but I could tell she was still hurt by the deception from the way she looked at the Good Detective.

"Have you talked to her?" he asked Loose & Lanky.

"Noooot yet," he replied. "I thought it over, and I decided it would be best if we explained everything to her together. And I do mean eeeverything."

"That's probably a good idea," said the Good Detective. "Although really, we should've told her ages ago."

"Well, we're paying for it now," Loose & Lanky groaned as the two of them Lynne's desk.

Lynne spun around in her chair. "Ok. I'm ready."

Loose & Lanky and the Good Detective looked at one another, unsure of who should speak first, or even what to say.

Finally, Loose & Lanky cleared his throat. "Lynne, baby. What happened to you that day was due to a screw up on my part."

Lynne just blinked.

"Ten years ago," Loose & Lanky continued, "Yomiel was working on a major security program for the government. Kid was a genius, completely skipped junior high and graduated from college at just nineteen. But something happened. The program got leaked."

"Was he responsible?" asked Lynne.

"Nah, but he was a person of interest," replied Loose & Lanky. "I was given the job of questioning him, just getting a statement. But I got cocky," Loose & Lanky let his gaze fall to the floor as he recalled his past mistake. "I was green and wanted to impress my seniors, so I backed the kid against the wall, rattled him up. The way I played it, I made him think we had pinned everything on him, that his whole life was over." He turned his gaze back to Lynne. "I broke his spirit."

"I don't get it," Lynne said. "If you had him in custody…"

"Oh, it gets woooorse." Loose & Lanky sat on the desk. "I was called away. I must have left him, oh, five minutes tops, but I made one very, very stupid mistake. I left my gun behind."

Lynne was stunned. "So he got out because-"

"Uh-huh."

"And the gun he used was-?"

"Uuuuuh-huh."

Lynne took a deep breath and placed her hand over her mouth as she tried to take all of this in. "How could you do something so stupid?"

"Lynne baby," Loose & Lanky shook his head. "I've been asking myself that same question these past ten years."

"Ok," Lynne sighed, "fine. You screwed up, and I can live with. But in the end, he was the one who pointed the gun at me, not you."

"True," said the Good Detective. "But that's not the end of the story."

Lynne folded her arms and leaned forward slightly.

The Good Detective pulled up an empty chair and sat on it backwards, "Lynne, the fact you were taken hostage was my fault."

"What?"

"I chased Yomiel into the Park; that much is true. Lynne, what were you taught about those kinds of situations when you were still a cadet?"

Lynne bit her lip, "Stay back, and observe from a distance. An aggravated perp in a pubic area is never a good thing…" Lynne looked up at him. "That's what you did…right?"

The Good Detective hung his head. "No – I had my gun on him the whole time; I even fired a shot into the air to scare him. And that's when he grabbed you."

Lynne groaned and let her head fall backwards on the table, "I can't believe I'm hearing this…"

"There's one last thing you need to know," the Good Detective, "which should hopefully prove that Yomiel isn't the threat you perceive him to be. Lynne, when you came to, where were you?"

"In your arms," said Lynne, "you grabbed me before that big statue fell on top of me."

"With a hole in my leg? I needed Cabanela's help just to get into the ambulance!"

"But the only other guy there was…" Lynne's eyes flashed as she put two-and-two together. "No way, it was him?"

"Yes, Yomiel grabbed you and threw you to safety," said the Good Detective. "He could've made a run for it, but he didn't. And he got himself pinned under that statue as a result."

"It's true, Lynne," I told her, breaking my silence. "I was there too, remember?"

Lynne was quiet.

"We should have told you all of this ages ago, baby," said Loose & Lanky, "But, well, we were ashamed, I guess."

Lynne sat quietly for a while. Then she got up from her chair, "Well, we can't just sit here lounging around all day, we've got work to do."

Loose & Lanky and the Good Detective looked at her awkwardly. It was me who asked Lynne what was undoubtedly on their minds.

"Lynne, you've just taken in a lot," I said. "Are you sure you just want to jump into work?"

Lynne flashed her million dollar smile, and turned to her mentors, "I'm still a little mad, yeah. But didn't you two chew me out just the other day, for being an idiot? We're all human, we screw up." She sighed, "And I'll be sure to apologise to Yomiel and his wife, next time I see them. And thank him, of course." She put on a determined expression, "But right now, we have more important things to worry about, right?"

The Good Detective and Loose & Lanky looked at each other and smiled – things were back on track.

"Suuure thing, baby!" Loose & Lanky crooned. "First off, we've got the Twister case, and second is that guy who tried to shoot us last night!"

"I think Sissel and I can answer that part," the Good Detective said.

"What do you mean?" asked Lynne.

"In that other timeline, one that's been erased," the Good Detective said, "most of the trouble was caused by blue skinned foreign spies."

"Spies, huh?" Loose & Lanky raised an eyebrow. "Weeell, then this is problem for the special investigations unit."

"It's a little more complicated than that," said the Good Detective. "They had a reason for being here, a specific goal – to retrieve a piece of the Temsik meteorite."

Lynne and Loose & Lanky looked at each other anxiously.

"Now that you mention it," said Lynne, "immortality, the power to rewind time – it's make for a pretty powerful weapon."

"Wait, waaait," Loose & Lanky cut in, "I thought the powers of the meteorite were top secret!"

"It is," the Good Detective said. "It could be possible they're after something else, but-"

"But if they're not," finished Loose & Lanky, "then hooow the hell did they find out this time?"

"Probably the same way they found out last time?" suggested Lynne.

The Good Detective looked flustered, and I was feeling the pinch as well. All the problems that had occurred in the past timeline could be traced to one person – Yomiel. He had been the one to contact the blue-skinned foreigners and tell them about the fragment. It was only one of many actions he regretted, and I was certain that this time around he was not to blame. He simply had too much at stake. I felt bad about keeping Lynne out of the loop, and I'm sure the Good Detective felt the same. But I wanted to protect Yomiel. I wanted to see him happy.

Thankfully, providence threw in a welcome interruption, as a loud siren started blaring and a light on the wall began alternating in flashes of red and blue. Chaos erupted officers jumped from their desks straight into action.

"Security breach, code yellow!"

"Where?"

"The forensics lab!"

I jumped into Lynne's gun as she grabbed it and ran towards the forensics unit. As we arrived, I could see the fuss was centred on one area of the lab – the hall leading to the secure room containing the Temsik fragment. Needless to say, this didn't look good.

As we came closer, it turned out things weren't as bad as they first seemed to be. It was true that the Temsik room had been broken into; there was a strange electronic device attached to the door that was making all sorts of funny beeping sounds, and I could see Temsik radiation leaking from a metal suitcase on the floor. But a group of officers had a man pinned to the floor and were putting handcuffs on him.

"Lynne," I said. "Would you mind pushing forward a little please? I want to take a closer look."

Lynne complied, and I instantly recognised the man in question, the blue skin was a dead giveaway of course, but there was no mistaking those tired droopy eyes, the shaggy oversized moustache, or that slouched posture. The Phoney Doctor from the Fateful Night.

"He's one of them!" I told Lynne. "He's one of the spies from the other timeline!"

Lynne whispered this information into the ear of the Good Detective, who in turned passed it on to Loose & Lanky.

"Weeeell," said Loose & Lanky, "if there's anything good from out of all this, it's that we now know for certain what those spies are after."

"That being the case," mused Lynne, "it could have serious implications for the Twister investigation. He's got one of those rocks stuck in him, right?"

The Professor was nearby, shaking his head and muttering, "What an idiot, honestly."

"Why?" asked the Good Detective. "What happened?"

"I saw him hanging about," said the Professor, "and I thought something seemed a little off about him, so I went up to him and started some 'polite conversation', if you will. Claimed he was a bacterium specialist from the university. So I asked him a few questions about the new flu strain that's been going about. He started babbling about amazing breakthroughs in the science of microbiology and all sorts of nonsense, and that's when I sounded the alarm."

"Isn't influenza is a virus?"

"That's what I told him... moron."

I didn't quite understand what all those big words meant, but it was clear that the Phoney Doctor had goofed. As the Phoney Doctor was led away, the Professor picked up the suitcase and walked back into the holding room, took the meteorite shards from it and started placing them in the case. It was then I realised something odd. I quickly called on Lynne.

"Lynne, do you think you could go into the room and take a look around for me?"

"Yeah, sure."

Lynne went inside behind the Professor, and from there I got a better look at a strange phenomenon – when outside of the case, the Temsik let off its usual radiation as a flowing wave of energy. But once inside the case, the radiation seemed to stop. I asked Lynne to question the Professor for me on this issue.

"Oh, that?" huffed the Professor. "That'd be the insulation. It's built into the case in the off chance someone dropped dead in here."

"Kinda like a reverse fall-out shelter, then?" Lynne quipped.

"You could say that. But it was a pain in the ass trying to find a material that did the job, in the end I was forced to cook up some alloy that hasn't been used since the Middle Ages. I'm surprised that the disembodied house pet has never noticed before."

Lynne and I left the Professor to clean up the mess in the containment room and rejoined Loose & Lanky.

"Where's Jowd?" asked Lynne.

"He went to interrogate Mister I-Fail-Biology-Forever," Loose & Lanky replied.

"I thought you were the interrogation expert."

"Yes, but with Jowd's, uh, 'specialist knowledge' on the matter, I felt he should do the honours."

I'd never seen an interrogation room before, but I'm pretty glad they don't put them in homes or anything because, well, they're depressing, boring, and badly lit. Why anyone would want a room like that is beyond me. To be precise, it was more like two rooms divided by a big window, with Lynne, Loose & Lanky and I standing on one side, while on the other side of the window the Phoney Doctor and the Good Detective were seated at opposite sides of a metal table.

"So," said the Good Detective, leaning back casually in his chair, "how was the submarine ride?"

The Phoney Doctor blinked stupidly. "Wh-wh… what?"

"You didn't get seasick or anything I hope? Oh and how is Mister Sith? Has he been well?"

The Phoney Doctor said nothing, but the look on his face clearly said, 'Who the hell is this guy and how does he know all this?'

"Oh, and by the way," the Good Detective leaned forward across the table, with a deceptively friendly grin, "just how did you know about the Temsik meteorite?"

The Phoney Doctor was sweating profusely as he squirmed in his chair, his eyes were darting around the room and he twiddled his fingers. "U-um…. I-I'd like to contact the embassy, please…"

The Good Detective got up from his chair and headed for the door, "Of course. Be sure to tell your ambassador that I'm very interested in having a good, long chat."

I was confused, "Um Lynne, what just happened?"

"That, Sissel," said Lynne with a smile, "is a little thing us cops like to call 'leverage."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Fragile Relations

The embassy turned out to be a big, fancy building at the edge of the city with a high wall and a thick iron gate. It seemed that not just any one could go inside; the man at the gate wouldn't let Lynne or the others in until they showed him their badges. The inside of the building was opulent, much like the office of the Justice Minister. Paintings of people in strange costumes adorned the walls, and in just about every corner was some sort of statue.

Lynne whistled. "Nice pad," she said. "Maybe we should've brought a fruit basket or something."

"Now Lynne, we'll have none of that," said the Good Detective warningly. "Its touch and go with these people, the ambassador could call upon diplomatic immunity at any time."

"What's diplomatic immunity?" I asked Lynne.

"Ambassadors have special privileges that protect them when they go overseas," Lynne told me. "If we think the ambassador is up to something, we can't question them or arrest them or anything like that."

"That doesn't sound very smart."

"Maybe, but say, you were an ambassador staying in a hostile nation, and they wanted your government's secrets," said Lynne. "They could bring up phoney charges against you and hold you for ransom."

"But we wouldn't do that to them, right?"

"That may be so, but you gotta have the same rules everywhere so things stay honest," Lynne replied.

I suppose Lynne had a point there, but I still found it very confusing.

We were led to the ambassador's office, and were struck dumb by what was inside. Green. Everywhere you looked there was luscious greenery, broken up only by the kaleidoscope of blooming flowers. A rocky pool sat in a far corner, constantly being filed by a trickle of water pouring from the wall. From my vantage point inside of Lynne's badge I could see the graceful forms of about a dozen large, golden fish. Adding to the pleasant tones of running water was the song of crickets, frogs and birds, the latter of which could be seen roosting in tree branches or flying overhead. The light was natural, for the roof was a huge glass dome which the sunlight could shine through. And the butterflies – everywhere there was butterflies.

"Oh… oh Lynne!" I lamented. "I wish we'd brought my body along, just to run around and chase butterflies and, oh it's so beautiful…"

"I gotta admit, I wouldn't mind working in a place like this," Lynne muttered.

There was the occasional rocky protrusion jutting out from the ground, and upon closer inspection, all of them had a glass box set into them which contained various creature of some kind –spiders, snakes, a nest of ants and a tank full of fish, a black and orange lizard, something that looked like a rat, and a few other creatures that I didn't recognise.

Loose & Lanky was inspecting glass box containing a small black spider with red markings on its rear end, "Black widow – bite's not usually lethal, but I've been bitten by one, and I can tell you, it is naaaasty."

"I do hope you won't hold it against her," was the unexpected reply.

Lynne and the others turned to see the newcomer – a young boy, no older than fourteen, dressed very smartly with curly auburn hair and that unmistakable blue skin. His eyes were gentle and friendly, but oddly they were different colours, one an icy blue, the other a deep rich brown.

"Nah, it was pretty much my fault," said Loose & Lanky. "Went camping as a kid and left my boots outside the tent. I came out it better than the little spider did, anyway…"

"Well that is a shame, but I'm glad to hear you don't hold a grudge," said the boy with a kind smile. "This world has so many wonderful creatures in it but they aren't always appreciated."

"Anyway, kid," said Lynne, stepping forward, "We were hoping to speak with the ambassador. Is he around?"

"Uh, Lynne," the Good Detective pulled her aside. "That is the ambassador."

"What? No way, he's just a-! Uh, I mean…" Lynne winced as her mentors shot her withering looks. "G-gosh sir, I'm so sorry…"

The Little Ambassador laughed. "It's alright, officer. I'm not oblivious to my age, you know." He gestured towards a depression in the floor in which were set a circle of cotton seats with a glass table in the centre. "Please take a seat, refreshments will be brought along shortly."

"I really have to say," said Lynne as she sat down, "I'm envious of your office."

"Designed it myself," said the Little Ambassador with a smile.

"Does it remind you of back home?"

The Little Ambassador's smile faded. "I'm afraid not," he said sadly. "My country puts great emphasis on scientific progress, and our natural landscape has suffered greatly as a result."

"Oh… I'm sorry to hear that."

This conversation was interrupted by a yelp from the Good Detective. Lynne and Loose & Lanky turned to see what the problem was – a huge green snake had slithered down from the trees and was nose-to-nose with the Good Detective, its forked tongue darting in his face.

"Oh my," the Little Ambassador chuckled. "It seems that Zaltys has taken a liking to you, Detective."

"I-I, uh, I think this one got out of his c-cage," the Good Detective stammered as he tried to back away from the inquisitive reptile.

"Oh no, only the venomous land animals require terrariums," said the Little Ambassador. "Zaltys here is a python; he kills his prey by squeezing them with the coils of his body, slowly suffocating them."

The Good Detective didn't seem too reassured by this information, especially since the huge snake was now in the process off wrapping itself around the Good Detective's neck and sliding under his trench coat.

Loose & Lanky, on the other hand, seemed to think this was hilarious. "Ha-HA! You never were good with reptiles were ya, Jowd?" He turned to Lynne, trying his best to keep a straight face. "A big tough guy like him, would you beliiiieve it? Maaan, the stories I could tell you!"

"Not funny, Cabanela!" the Good Detective growled warningly.

A cheeky grin spread across Lynne's face, "Do tell."

"Okay, so back at the academy," Loose & Lanky leaned towards Lynne, "Jowd and I shared a dorm with some other guys, right? We were always pranking each other, so one day we find this gecko, just sunning itself on a window sill. Jowd was still snoozing, so me and the boys grab the little fella and lower it onto Jowd's biiig ooold schnozzle, then we give him a little shake to wake him up. Oh Lynne, it's toooo bad you weren't there, the scream he let out was – GYAK!"

Loose & Lanky jumped back from the big, furry black muzzle that had just lowered itself between him and Lynne. This strange new animal was unlike anything I had ever seen before; its face was a lot like a dog's although the ears were too little, its body had a round rump like a rabbit's, but it's hind legs seemed to be too long, and all four limbs ended in a set of heavy, sharp claws. It was covered in shaggy golden-brown fur, and it was absolutely huge. Suddenly I was glad that I didn't have my body with me.

The Little Ambassador signalled towards the bear, "Brunhilda has been my constant companion since my early childhood. She's almost like a mother to me."

Loose & Lanky grimaced as the creature gave him a huge, sloppy lick on the cheek.

Joining this strange new creature was another blue-skinned fellow, a giant of a man with a bald head and broad nose, dressed in a tuxedo and wearing a monocle. His stature made me nervous – last time I encountered someone like this, they weren't even human.

The Little Ambassador gestured to the large man. "This is Limbo, my valet," said he. The Giant Valet gave a slight bow.

I spoke quickly to Lynne. "Keep an eye on the big guy there," I warned her.

"Seen him before?"

"No, but he's an awful lot like one of the other blue-skinned spies, and that one was real dangerous."

"No mention of the bear?"

"What's a bear?"

"That big furry animal. You've never seen one before?"

"No, never. Truth be told, I just thought it was a dog. A very big one."

Limbo rolled a trolley laden with pots and covered trays into the lounge area and began setting them on the table. "Any special infusions today, Little Sir?" I could sense from the tone of his voice that Limbo had great affection for the Little Ambassador.

The Little Ambassador thought it over before replying, "I'm in the mood for a peppermint with a hint of ginger, if you please?"

"An excellent choice, Little Sir," said Limbo. He opened several small jars, inside which were several fine powers. Limbo scooped small amounts of these powders and tipped them into a sieve suspended in an ornate glass pot. He then took an engraved metal kettle and carefully poured hot water through the sieve, allowing it to pass through the powders and cause the water to turn a strange brownish-green colour.

"Limbo here is a culinary genius," said the Little Ambassador proudly. "Herbal teas and medicines, biscuits, cakes, jams and preserves, makes them all himself, and most of the ingredients are grown in this very garden."

Limbo didn't reply to this, but he had a slight blush. "And what would you officers like to drink?"

Lynne looked at her two mentors who were still busy getting to know their new animal friends, "Uh, maybe a straight up chamomile for all of us."

"Of course, officer."

The Little Ambassador called over to the Bear, "Brunhilda, come here and sit by me." The Bear obeyed, waddling over to the Little Ambassador's side and sitting next to him.

Loose & Lanky was very much relived as the large animal left him, "Who in their right mind keeps a pet bear?"

The Little Ambassador laughed and gave the Bear an affectionate scratch behind the ears, "Brunhilda isn't a pet, Inspector. She's my very best friend." He took a sip of his tea, "But I do apologise, I've distracted you for far too long. You are here to discuss an important matter involving one of my countrymen, correct?"

"Yeah," said Lynne. "We caught him sneaking about the restricted area of our forensics labs."

"Yes, I read the report," the Little Ambassador placed his cup on the table. "You seem to believe he's a spy?"

Lynne and Loose & Lanky didn't reply, but their expressions said everything.

"Are you sure he's not just some vagrant who wandered in from off the street?" said the Little Ambassador causally.

"Nooot with the tech he was fitted with," said Loose & Lanky. "He had a code cracker hooked up to the door of the room he was trying to break into."

"There are specialty shops that deal in such hardware," said the Little Ambassador. "Easily accessed by obsessive gadgeteers and the chronically paranoid."

"That's not what he said when we interrogated him," replied Lynne. "He mentioned a certain Commander Sith?"

The Little Ambassador was silent, picking up his cup and taking another sip of his tea. He placed it back down on the table and said, "I'm sorry. I don't know that name."

"Sheesh, he's a tough one!" I said. "He didn't even bat an eyelid when Commander Sith was mentioned."

"Maybe," said Lynne. "But it's possible he's simply not in on the spies' operation to begin with."

"I can assure you, officers, that my government has no spies operating on your soil," said the Little Ambassador coolly. "I am here to foster positive interaction between our countries, and I would certainly never approve of such unsavoury activities."

"Um, Little Sir," the Giant Valet whispered into his master's ear, "Commander Sith is on the telephone. He says it's urgent."

The Little Ambassador sighed, "Tell him I'll be along shortly."

I couldn't believe what I just heard "What on earth? The Ambassador just said that he didn't know Commander Sith!"

"Yeah, I know," said Lynne calmly.

"Then why did the valet just tell him that Commander Sith is on the phone?"

A shocked Lynne stood to attention, "What?"

"The valet just now, he said Commander Sith is on the phone."

"Sissel," Lynne looked at me intently, "are you telling me you can understand what the Ambassador and his valet are talking about right now?"

"Of course I can," I replied. "Can't you?"

Lynne shook her head, "Sissel, those two are speaking a whole other language. I can't understand a word they're saying."

"Seriously?" I asked, stunned. "What about Jowd and Cabanela?"

"Not likely. How are you able to understand them?"

"To be honest, I don't have the slightest clue," I told her. "It could be inherent simply because I'm a cat, or it might be another of the Temsik meteorite's effects. It makes me wonder about the other timeline…"

A sly look crept across Lynne's face, "Sissel, you don't think you could listen in on that call, do you?"

Once again, I felt that mischievous thrill. "Sure thing, I'll let know what I find."

I quickly jumped into the knife attached to the Little Ambassador's belt as he got up from his seat.

"Officers, I must ask you to excuse me for a moment – I have urgent matters to attend to but I shall return as soon as I am able."

"Not a problem," said Lynne with a smirk. "Take all the time you need."

With the Bear lumbering behind him, the Little Ambassador went over to what seemed to be a tree trunk, but he opened up a panel in the wood to reveal a compartment where the phone was held. I jumped into the phone, feeling a little apprehensive as I did.

"I'm here, Commander," said the Little Ambassador, with a hint of irritation in his voice.

"Ah, there you are, my boy!" It was Commander Sith alright; I could see him at the other end of the line with his robotic manservant standing right behind him. "Have you dealt with those three meddlesome lawmen yet?"

"I'm still trying to negotiate for Agent 42's release, Commander," said the Little Ambassador. "But I'm having some difficulties…"

Commander Sith slammed his fist on the table, "Ugh! Confound that 42, he was just supposed to be on surveillance! If it weren't for the fact that he could expose our entire operation, I'd have a half mind to just leave him to rot!"

The Little Ambassador took a deep breath before speaking again, "Commander, if I may be so bold…"

"Yes?"

"Is all this underhanded deception really necessary? Do we really need to kill these people? Surely we could simply negotiate some sort of trade with this nation's government to-"

"My dear boy," Commander Sith interrupted, "surely you jest – with my reputation? It's one thing to break a promise to a mole, but to betray an entire nation is to incite war!"

"I wasn't suggesting we betray them," the Little Ambassador replied through clenched teeth. "And besides, a trade might be more advisable at this stage. It seems we've already been compromised, Commander. The officers mentioned you by name."

Commander Sith stroked his chin thoughtfully. "What else do they know?"

"I haven't been able to discern that yet."

"Well, if they ask any more questions invoke your ambassadorial rights and throw them out!"

"And what about Agent 42?"

Commander Sith groaned. "You're the ambassador, make something up if you have to, I don't care! Just get him out so I can give him the sound cudgelling he deserves."

"Commander," the Little Ambassador bit his lip, "just one more thing. It's about our informant, Mr Twister."

The Twister? I definitely had to pay attention to this.

"What about him?" was Sith's curt reply.

"Well, no offence, Commander, but… he's insane!" the Little Ambassador looked quite ill as he said this. "He keeps bugging me about lending him samples of poison from my collection – those are meant to be used in the manufacture of antidotes, but goodness knows what he wants them for! Just yesterday he was talking with Jeego and Tengo, well I don't know what exactly he said to them but now they refuse to go anywhere near him, professional hit men, Commander! And Beauty – Gods and Saints, she can't stand the sight of that mask of his!"

Commander Sith sneered and whispered hoarsely into the phone, "Now listen here, you whipper-snapper. You have one job and one job alone – to put on a friendly face and distract the enemy! Just shut up and do as you're told, unless you want your precious little garden torn up and its menagerie sent to a sausage factory."

The Little Ambassador seemed visibly upset by this remark, giving an anxious glance towards the Bear sitting patiently beside him.

"Not to mention, my dear boy," Commander Sith continued, "you wouldn't want to be a traitor your country now."

"N-no sir," the Little Ambassador said, with an air of defeat. "I would never betray the Fatherland."

Commander Sith gave a smug grin, "Good lad. And don't forget, you have an appointment with Mr Twister in person later today. He'll meet you at the embassy, and I expect you to treat him with the same cordiality as you would any guest. Oh, but make sure you get rid of those three first."

The Little Ambassador shut his eyes; he looked as if he was about to cry, "Whatever the Fatherland wills, Commander. I will report back to you once he leaves."

Commander Sith hung up, and my decision was clear – I had to listen in on the Little Ambassador's discussion with the Twister. It was a huge risk, but if I kept quiet I wasn't likely to be discovered.

The Little Ambassador's expression was one of melancholy as hung up his phone. The Bear seemed to notice this, nudging his hand with her nose in an effort comfort him. He smiled weakly and gave her a quick scratch behind the ears. I had to admit, I was feeling some sympathy for the Little Ambassador myself. He clearly meant well, but with the circumstances as they were, he was an enemy, perhaps only a minor threat but still a threat nonetheless. I reattached myself to his knife as he walked back towards the seating area.

"I do apologise, officers," he said as he sat down. "I'm afraid that my job is a very demanding one."

I quickly jumped towards Lynne's core, and repeated to her what I had just heard.

"So the Twister's making a deal with this Commander Sith," Lynne mused. "And he's meeting with the Ambassador here later today."

"Yeah," I replied. "I'm going to stay here when you leave and try and listen in; perhaps I can discover his true identity."

"Well, I'll finish up here first, and then I'll talk it over with Jowd and Cabanela."

"Right."

We came back to the world of the living, where the topic of conversation had returned to negotiations for the Phoney Doctor's release.

"There's simply nothing more I can tell you, officers," said the Little Ambassador. "It's true that the man you have in custody is a fellow countryman, but as for the claims of espionage, I'm afraid I have nothing further to say."

It seemed that the conversation had reached a stalemate; Loose & Lanky had used up his ace and was tugging at his ear as he struggled to plan his next move, and the Little Ambassador couldn't recover the captured agent without exposing anything.

Lynne leant over and whispered into the ear of her straining mentor, "I don't think we're gonna get the cat out of the bag this way, if you get what I'm saying."

Loose & Lanky was quiet for a moment, but finally he got up from his seat and said, "Sorry to have taken up so much of your precious tiiiime, Mister Ambassador. I'm sure you have a loooot on your mind."

"I take it that you shall be leaving, then?" said the Little Ambassador.

"'Fraid so," said Loose & Lanky. "We just needed to check out the guy's story, and besides, we've got a big case we're working on right now. A real doozy."

I caught the Little Ambassador gulp slightly; I figured he had a pretty good idea of what case Loose & Lanky was referring to.

Lynne got up from her seat, and followed Loose & Lanky to the door leading to the lobby when they noticed that the Good Detective wasn't following them.

"Jowd," Lynne called back to him, "c'mon, we're going."

The Good Detective didn't budge. He sat there, tense and stiff, gripping the armrests tightly so that his knuckles had gone white, his face pale and contorted in a grimace.

"Jowd?" Loose & Lanky looked worried. "What's wrong, partner?"

The Good Detective didn't answer, but sliding out from under the neck of his shirt was the winding form of the large, green snake. Lynne and Loose & Lanky did their best to keep themselves from bursting into laughter.

The Little Ambassador got up from his seat, headed for the Good Detective and began coaxing the creature away from the Good Detective. "I'm awfully sorry, Detective. I'm so used to how things are around here that I often forget that not everyone is as favourable towards snakes as I am."

"Don't you have anything without scales or venom or something?" the Good Detective said, exasperated.

"Well, I do have a breeding colony of rats…"

"Oh, that's nice!"

"But only as live feed…"

The Good Detective didn't reply to that statement, choosing instead just to run for the door.

When we got back to the lobby there was a couple waiting to speak to the Little Ambassador; the first was a young man with long violet hair tied back into a ponytail and in a blue-green vest with gold trim, while with him was a pink-haired young woman wearing heavy makeup and lots of jewellery.

"Finally!" the Pink Prima-Donna exclaimed. "I've got an appointment for a facial later in the day so this better not take long!"

"Oh, Mister Prater," the Little Ambassador greeted the Soft-Spoken Gentleman. "I wasn't expecting you for at least another hour."

"I have some business to attend to later," said the Soft-Spoken Gentleman. "So unless you're busy…?"

"Oh no, I just wasn't prepared."

"May I dare ask who your distinguished guests are?" asked the Soft-Spoken Gentleman, gesturing towards us.

"Oh, these are Inspector Cabanela, Detective Jowd and Officer Lynne," the Little Ambassador replied. "They're here from the city police department on official business."

"Oh dear," the Soft-Spoken Gentleman looked concerned, "did something happen?"

"Oh no, nothing like that," said the Good Detective reassuringly. "Just clearing up a few issues regarding a man we arrested the other day."

"Oh I see," the Soft-Spoken Gentleman walked over towards the Good Detective and offered him his hand. "Prater deBok, current head of deBok Technological Enterprises." He gestured towards the Pink Prima-Donna. "And this is Tarpeia, my fiancée."

The Pink Prima-Donna waggled her exquisitely manicured hand in the Good Detective's direction, "Charmed, I'm sure."

"Mister deBok's company has provided our nation with many of the tools that have allowed our many technological feats," explained the Little Ambassador. "So naturally he's a much honoured guest."

"You flatter me, your honour," replied the Soft-Spoken Gentleman. "But if you'll excuse us, we really must be getting down to business."

"Of course," said Lynne. "But it was nice to meet you all."

The Little Ambassador and his guests headed for his office, and we were left to discuss the matter amongst ourselves. Lynne recounted everything that I had told her.

"So that's the gist of it," Lynne finished.

"Baby, you doooo realise that anything we find out this way won't hold up in court?" said Loose & Lanky.

"Well, yeah," said Lynne, "but I figured we could at least use the information Sissel got to prepare ourselves."

"Lynne, we're asking Sissel to commit espionage," said the Good Detective. "We can't do that."

"Why not?" I asked Lynne. "What's wrong with me listening in?"

"Well first of, you're a cat, and you're dead," Lynne explained. "But most importantly, some of the Ambassador's guests will be discussing pretty sensitive stuff. Take Prater for example – he runs a huge company that makes millions of dollars each year. Right now he's probably talking to the Ambassador about future business deals. That sort of information is easy to misuse, and if we get caught eavesdropping, it could cause a huge scandal. But," she turned to her mentors, "I'm not asking Sissel to listen in on sensitive conversations. I'm asking him to identify the Twister."

Loose & Lanky's eyes lit up, "Sissel just needs to wait out here in the lobby and check out whoever goes in or out."

"Sissel can see wandering souls and Temsik radiation," continued the Good Detective, "so he just has to identify the unmasked Twister and report back to us."

"Then we can put out a survey on the guy," Lynne replied. "Sissel doesn't even need to get up close so there's little risk that the Twister will catch and eat him."

"So I just wait here till he walks past?" I asked.

"And Sissel can just come back to us down the phone line when he's done," finished Lynne.

"Ok then," said the Good Detective. "We'd better get going. Good luck Sissel, we're counting on you."

The three of them left me in a statue of a boy herding a flock of sheep and headed out the front door, and so began my stakeout. The first group of people I examined was the Soft-Spoken Gentleman and his Pink Prima-Donna, about an hour or so after they had arrived.

"That damn bear had better not had any fleas," grumbled the Pink Prima-Donna. "Honestly, the kid's a freak, keeping snakes and spiders and Gods know what else!"

The Soft-Spoken Gentlemen placed a hand on her shoulder, "Tarpiea please, you really must learn to control your temper."

"I'm tellin' ya, if there weren't so much damn money involved-!"

"Watch what you say, my dear," the Soft-Spoken Gentleman interrupted her. "You never know who might be listening."

As he said this, he lent down towards the statue that I was hiding in, scrutinising it. This frightened me a little, if this man was the Twister I now stood a very good chance of being discovered. I jumped into the Ghost World, dreading what I might find. But to my relief there was nothing. That slimy, distorted soul didn't seem to be in this man and it wasn't in the woman either, nor was there a trace of Temsik radiation.

The Pink Prima-Donna tapped her foot impatiently, "Prater, what are you doing?"

The Soft-Spoken Gentleman brushed some dust of my statue, then got up and walked towards his fiancée. "Seventeenth century, I would say; excellent craftsmanship."

The Pink Prima-Donna rolled her eyes, "Whatever. Can we get going? I'm gonna miss my facial."

The Soft-Spoken Gentleman and the Pink Prima-Donna made their exit after this exchange, and I was once again left by myself to watch the comings and goings at the embassy. Indeed, there were over a dozen guests that day, whose reaction to the Little Ambassador's odd collection of animals varied from absolute horror to those who seemed to be more familiar to the Ambassador's eccentricities. Most of these guests I had never seen before, although I did recognise the Justice Minister with his wife and daughter in tow. I couldn't help but be amused by the revolted expressions on the faces of the Minster and his wife when they came out an hour later. The Angelic Firecracker, their daughter, on the other hand, was beside herself with glee.

"Did you see the bear, Daddy?" she gushed. "It ate the apple right out of my hand!"

"Yes dear…" said the Minister weakly.

"And weren't all the snakes and stuff so awesome? I can't wait to tell Kamila – the ambassador told me that being bitten by the little hairy brown spiders with the white spots can cause your skin to rot right off!"

The Minister's Perfumed Wife put a napkin to her mouth as she tried not to gag.

"And I though today was gonna be boring!" said the Angelic Firecracker as the Minister grabbed her by the arm and practically dragged her towards the door.

But despite all this activity, there was no sign of the Twister. I checked everyone, even the Justice Minister and his family. But there was not a sign of that twisted lump of a soul or the radiation that had created it. I stayed there all night, thinking perhaps the Twister might prefer the cover of darkness to conduct his grim business. But once the sun had set there were no more visitors, the only people remaining being the Little Ambassador and his various staff, who I also scanned, just to be sure. I couldn't understand it. I had stayed in the lobby all day, never moving from that statue, checking out everyone who had passed by.

I wondered if perhaps the Twister had chosen to leave his body and make his visit via the phone line, thus skipping the lobby and arriving in the office. But no, Commander Sith has said that the Twister would be arriving in person. Perhaps the meeting was to be held in another location. But that couldn't be it either; the meeting place was explicitly stated to be here, in the embassy. Perhaps the Twister had used another entrance. Of course, I had no idea how many entrances this place had to begin with. This thought was, of course, very disheartening. This was ridiculous. I mean, an aged soul could easily hide itself from view, but how could you hide the Temsik radiation? The first light of dawn began to creep through the window, and I had no choice but to accept that my mission had failed.

I recounted everything to Lynne the next day, while she and the others were on lunch break in the city's public square.

"You're kidding?" groaned the Good Detective.

"That's what Sissel told me," Lynne grumbled as she bit into her pastry. "He even stayed the whole night, just to make sure."

"Oh, poor Sissel," the Good Detective shook his head. "There'll be a new scratching-post waiting for you when we get home, I promise."

"Weeell, it wasn't a total loss," Loose & Lanky observed. "At least we have an idea on where to look now. We'll just drop the Special Investigations Unit an 'anoooonymous tip', and hopefully they'll uncover the same info we have."

We were interrupted by a loud ruckus coming from the stage in the middle of the market square; the Spiky-Haired Rocker and three other strangely-dressed youths were playing their instruments, and they seemed to be quite popular with the crowd. Lynne was looking on with some interest, tapping her hand on the table in time to the beat. Her mentors on the other hand shared my opinion that the screaming and the noise could never be classified as 'music', the Good Detective was grimacing while Loose & Lanky covered his ears.

"You like that racket?" the Good Detective asked Lynne.

"Oh c'mon, it's not so bad," Lynne replied. "All these people here seem to like it."

"Probably because they no longer have eardrums."

It was then that something in the crowd caught my eye – a small, flicking blue flame attached to someone in the crowd.

"'Scuse me for a sec," I told Lynne. "I just gotta go check something."

I jumped across sales carts and partying youths towards the location of the blue flame. I was surprised to find everyone's favourite tabloid reporter, the Scrawny Snooper, pointing his camera at the concert and snapping away, and he seemed to be in a good mood. The blue flame in question was resting inside Scrawny's camera. Naturally, I jumped into the camera to learn more.

The ghost inside the camera had a human form – a short, dumpy man with the same shade of skin as scrawny, while his face had a pair of staring white eyes, a bulbous red nose, thick black eyebrows with a matching moustache and a downturned mouth…

"Toon-Face?"

"You again?" he replied gruffly. "I told ya so! I found out who I am, all by myself!" He thrust his chest out proudly. "Didn't need no flea-bitten hairball or uppity skirt to help me out, after all!"

"Uh… I'm real glad for you," I replied. In truth I was actually pretty annoyed, Toon-Face had been my best lead on the Twister and now I had lost my leverage, not to mention he hadn't apologised for just how poorly he had treated Lynne and I.

"Oh, that?" huffed Toon-Face, as he heard my thoughts. "Ok, look, sorry for all that, really, and as for that soul-stealing freak, all that happened was that I saw him in the Park that night, when he killed that office drone, ok? And one last thing, fleabag," he gave a smug grin, "the name's not 'Toon-Face' or 'Mister Daruma', it's Kenshin Charivari."

"Charivari?" I glanced towards Scrawny. "You two are related?"

"Kid's my son," Toon-Face replied. "Whatcha reckon, huh? A real chip off the old block!"

Well, they sure did both have a talent for getting on people's nerves.

"Hey, Rennie!" Toon-Face called out to the Scrawny Snooper. "I wantcha to meet someone."

Scrawny stopped taking happy-snaps and ducked into a private corner, "Ya there, dad?"

"Heya, Ren!" Toon-Face beamed. "Ya get any hotties with that camera of yours?"

Scrawny laughed and rolled his eyes, "Since when did you become such a perve? I remember you used to be so conservative when I was a kid."

"Never mind that, kiddo, I wantcha to meet someone," he jerked a thumb towards me, "this fleabag here's the one who gave me grief before I caught up with you."

Scrawny gave a smirk, "Actually, we've already met. Believe it or not, this little guy saved my ass."

"No kidding," scoffed Toon-Face. "What is it with ya, fall off of a witch's broomstick?"

"Anyway," Scrawny gave a sly grin, "I'm pretty sure our little lucky black cat here could come in real handy…"

I didn't need to listen in on Scrawny's thoughts to know what he wanted, "You want info on the Twister, right?"

Toon-Face seemed somewhat alarmed by this, "Uh… we really don't need to bother with all that, do we?"

"I'm a hundred percent on this one," Scrawny said with an air of confidence. "I'm gonna find the Twister and expose him to the world."

"C'mon, Rennie, why go through all that crap, huh?" Toon-Face flustered, "Can't we just focus on catching up, chatting about old times, all that father-son stuff…?"

"No," Scrawny was serious and firm. "I can't reclaim the time that we lost, but I can sure as hell find the bastard that stole it in the first place and…!"

"Th-that's all in the past, Rennie, let's just focus on the future, huh?"

This was a major revelation – Scrawny seemed to be under the impression that Toon-Face had died at the hands of the Twister, which meant his hunt was personal. And Toon-Face was frightened enough of the Twister to try and persuade his son from seeking justice.

"C'mon dad, if you could just remember how you died…"

"It's not important anymore, Ren, it's gone. Buried. L-let's just move on, huh?"

I wanted to continue listening, but I felt bad for listening in what was obviously a private conversation between a father and son, "I have to get going, Lynne and the others are going to miss me."

The two of them were too busy arguing to bother with a reply.

I made my way back to Lynne, and told her what had happened. "Well, I can't say I'm sorry to get rid of that pervert daruma," she said when I had finished, "but if he's joined forces with Reynard it's going to be a big headache."

"I'm more interested in their connection to the Twister," I replied. "Reynard seems to be carrying a lot of anger regarding his father's death, which is why he's so obsessive with the case. He might turn out to be of use to us."

"I guess I could look up Reynard's dad when we get back to the precinct," said Lynne.

It was around this time that I noticed that one of our group was missing, "Hey, where's Jowd?"

"He said he had to use the bathroom, but personally I think he just got sick of the concert."

Speaking of which, the band were now performing a song which I recognised as a rather imaginative rendition of 'The Three Little Pigs', a favourite story of the Little Lady's. About halfway through the song, the band members seemed to lose their sense of rhythm, looking around as if they were expecting something to happen. Finally, one of the band members, a tall skinny guy with long hair that fell over his face, jumped up from his keyboards and hissed into the wing.

"Dude, where are the frikkin' pigs? They should've run onstage like two choruses ago!"

The reply from behind the curtain was anxious and confused, "Dude, I'm so sorry, but I can't find them, it's like they've disappeared…"

The Lean & Hairy Rocker slapped his forehead and sighed, "Ok, fine. You just round up the damn porkers and we'll just have to keep on playing without them."

The Lean & Hairy Rocker returned to the keyboards and the band started back up. But that wasn't the end of the trouble. A few moments later, the drummer, a big stocky fellow, was distracted from his drumming as he tried to wipe away the beads of red liquid that had started to drip onto his face from the stage roof.

"What the hell?" As he looked up, his face went pale and his eyes grew wide, "HOLY SHIT!"

Almost as if on cue, the bodies of the three missing pigs, their throats slashed open, dropped down from the roof, only prevented from hitting the floor by the ropes tied around their necks that jerked violently as they reached max tension. The band members and the audience screamed at the gruesome sight.

"Wh-what the hell?" the Spiky-Haired rocker dropped his guitar. "That ain't part of the program!"

"And those costumes!" cried the other guitarist, a young girl with pale skin and dressed in black. "Those are not the costumes I made up!"

"Our audience has been traumatised by a live butchering and you're worried about the costumes?"

Lynne and Loose & Lanky jumped from their seats in horror – the little pigs had each been carefully dressed to resemble a member of the team, including the absent Good Detective. They even had wigs to match their hair.

There was another thing about the pigs, something that Lynne and Loose & Lanky couldn't see, but it was perhaps the most worrying of all, "Lynne! None of those pigs have a core! Their souls are missing!"

"Cabanela, he's here," said Lynne. "The Twister, he's here!"

"Shit!" Loose & Lanky whipped around, scanning the area. "Jowd? Jowd, where are you?"

We spotted him a few feet away, near a lamppost.

"Jowd!" Lynne called out to him. "Come on, the Twister could be anywhere around here."

No. He wasn't just anywhere. I could see that vile, warped soul perfectly well from where I was. Right inside the Good Detective.

"Don't go near him!" I warned Lynne. "It's not Jowd – the Twister's controlling his body!"

"What?"

The Twister, in the Good Detective's body, looked towards us, a very un-Jowd-like sneer on his face. He gave a wave of his hand, and gunfire rang out. Lyyne and Loose & Lanky quickly upturned a metal table and dived for cover as the market square exploded into panic.

Lynne and the Good detective pulled out their handguns and buckled down, ready for the fight. I got a good glimpse of their opponents, Jeego and Tengo, who had traded in their usual firearms for a new type of gun I hadn't seen before. Whatever they were, they pumped out bullets at a phenomenal rate and were literally spraying the area with them.

"Semi-automatics!" cried Lynne. "How the hell did they get their hands on those?"

"They must've smuggled them in!" replied the Loose & Lanky.

"What do we do, Sir? If we fight back we risk hitting Jowd, and if we don't fight back…!"

"Let me try!" I told Lynne. "Maybe I can chase them off or stop the guns from working."

It was easy to find a path with all the mess that had been caused in the scramble for safety. I attacked Jeego's gun first, fiddling with the internal parts until it stopped firing. Jeego cursed as he slapped the side of his gun in an effort to get it working again.

"Hah! First your eyesight, now your gun!" snickered Tengo. "Face it, bub, you can't keep with –"

Tengo's taunting was cut short when I made the gun backfire, causing him to drop it as he tended to his stinging hand. Lynne and the Good Detective saw their chance and began shooting at the two blue assassins. Without guns, Jeego and Tengo had no choice but to flee.

Now to rescue the Good Detective, if that was even possible. Lynne and Loose & Lanky rushed out from behind their cover, guns at the ready, scanning the abandoned square for any sign of their comrade.

"There!" Lynne pointed to an alleyway not too far away, and I just caught a flutter of the tail of his brown trench coat.

"Sir, Sissel said that the Twister is… well, he's possessing Jowd!"

"You mean like that movie with the girl spinning her head and spitting out pea soup?" asked Loose & Lanky.

"Yeah, he's controlling him like a puppet!"

"Lynne baby, listen to me – I want you to head back to the car and call for backup, ok?"

"N-no way!" Lynne protested. "If you're going after Jowd, then I'm-!"

"We'll achieve nothing if we aaaall get iced!" Loose & Lanky retorted. "Lynne, we need that backup. And besides, you're the only one who communicate with the ghost cat, remember?"

Lynne gritted her teeth, but she obeyed her superior and headed for the car.

I gave her a quick shout as she passed by, "I'm going with Cabanela!"

"Good luck, both of you!" she called back.

I grabbed on to Loose & Lanky badge as he raced towards the alleyway where the Good Detective had last been spotted. As we entered the alleyway, Loose & Lanky slowed his pace, keeping his back to the wall. Parked at the end of the valley was a black van with tinted windows, and there was the Twister, still in the Good Detective's body. He opened the door, revealing another familiar face, Beauty, the Black-Hearted Lady, waiting inside along with what appeared to be a coreless dead body.

"Have you realised that we've got company?" she said, pointing her riding crop towards Loose & Lanky.

The Twister turned casually to face us, still holding that smug sneer on the Good Detective's face. Loose & Lanky took his gun, aiming it not at his partner, but at Beauty behind him. Beauty seemed to be slightly unnerved by this tactic, but she didn't move an inch. The Twister, however, raised a quizzical eyebrow, scoffed, and took out the Good Detective's gun.

"You really sure that's such a smart move?" he sneered.

I knew it was the Twister speaking, and not the Good Detective. It was the Good Detective's voice, but the inflections and attitude was all wrong. It gave me the creeps.

"She may not mean anything to you," replied Loose & Lanky, "but can you really afford to lose her aid?"

"You're right in that she means nothing to me," the Twister replied. "In fact, they've got so many like her that if you were to kill her right now, she could easily be replaced. And besides, I just have to rewind the clock to prevent her from dying."

Loose & Lanky was shocked, "W-what the hell are you talking about?"

"You know what I mean, Inspector," said the Twister. "The powers of the dead. The same powers possessed by your little friend hiding in your badge." He waved the Good Detective's hand at me, "Hello there, my little disembodied friend. I tell you what, though," he turned back to Loose & Lanky, "being able to rewind time and prevent death opens up a whole world of creative freedom for my craft."

Loose & Lanky blinked stupidly, "What?"

"Torturing and killing a person once is a true joy, to be sure," continued the Twister. "But when you can bring that person back to life and prolong the entertainment, well!" The Twister contorted the Good Detective's face into a monstrous grin. "Since they remember everything, it has quite an interesting effect on their mentality. I tell you, its one thing to push a person's body to the limit, but to destroy their will to live and their grip on reality takes things to a whole new level!"

"W-why you sick sonna-! Get out of my partner's body!"

"Are you done gloating?" Beauty yawned. "Either deal with the cop or drop the hostage so we can get outta here."

The Twister rolled the Good Detective's eyes. Then he took the gun and held it to Good Detective's temple.

"Oh Gods!" Loose & Lanky gasped. "No, don't!"

"I don't really care if this meat puppet lives or dies," the Twister sneered. "I'll kill him, devour his soul, and just take you hostage instead. Or you could drop that little pea-shooter of yours and let us get back to business. What shall it be, then?"

The Loose & Lanky was in a deadlock. Even without the threat of being taken hostage himself, there was no way he was willing to risk the life of his friend and partner. But I never expected what he said next.

"Take me instead," he said calmly, slowly placing him gun on the ground. "I'm higher up in the force; you can get more outta me than you can with Jowd."

The Twister's cocked the Good Detective's head quizzically; he didn't seem too impressed by this idea.

Beauty on the other hand, jumped on the offer, "Take him and dump old forest-face. I just want to get outta here and it'll be easier if the hostage doesn't wiggle."

"Fine," the Twister grumbled. "I suppose I can play with him later."

The Twister handed Beauty the gun as she took out a pair of handcuffs and clapped them to the Good Detective's wrists. Loose & Lanky went over to the van, still cool and collected, and stepped inside, as the Twister's soul slid into the lifeless body that had been lying in the back of the van. But I was surprised to see that the maggoty soul seemed to vanish as it entered the body. The body began to rise, and as the head came into view, I could see that ugly stained mask with its zipper teeth and slitted eyes. He lent over towards Loose & Lanky, and tore off his badge with me still inside, throwing me out of the van and into the gutter. Beauty handed the Twister the Good Detective's gun to him as the Good Detective, no longer possessed, slowly came to.

"Wha… what on earth?" he said groggily.

The Twister's reply was to thump the Good Detective on the head with his own gun, knocking him unconscious.

"Jowd!" Loose & Lanky called out to his friend, but he was roughly shoved into the back by the Twister.

Beauty jumped into the van, and called out to the driver's seat, "Step on it, Dandy!"

She slid the door shut as the van sped off, leaving me and the unconscious Good Detective lying in the mud. Not long after, Lynne arrived with the backup, and as paramedics tended to the bump on the Good Detective's head, I was once again telling Lynne everything I had seen. Needless to say, she was distraught at the news of Loose & Lanky's abduction.

"Jowd will be devastated," she bemoaned. "I can't believe Cabanela would go so far to…"

"There was nothing any of us could've done, Lynne," I replied.

"You don't think they'll kill him, do you?"

I couldn't say for sure. While the blue-skins' goal in the previous timeline had been to eliminate anyone who knew of the Temsik event, it seemed odd that they had simply chosen to take a hostage and hadn't taken the chance to kill Lynne and the others. What's more, in order to posses the Good Detective, the Twister would've had to abandon his own body, with its precious Temsik fragment sill inside. Yomiel had made a similar mistake in the previous timeline, and Commander Sith was quick to betray him. And yet the Twister was still working with Sith and his subordinates. Something was off.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Something in the Air

There was chaos back at the precinct as news of Loose & Lanky's abduction spread. The Good Detective, his head wrapped in bandages, was frantically pacing back and forth, wringing his hands as Lynne tried to calm him.

"They want him alive for now, we're sure of it," Lynne said.

"That idiot," the Good Detective growled. "Why'd he have to go and do that?"

"Maybe because he knew he'd never be able to face Alma and Kamila if he didn't?" Lynne replied.

The Good Detective sighed and slumped into his chair, "I can't believe this; the Twister can possess the living! It was bad enough with him just killing people, but now-!"

"You sound like you've seen this before," said Lynne.

"In the other timeline, yes," I told Lynne. "There was a ghost with that ability, but they don't have it anymore."

"Do they still have their memory?" asked Lynne. "Maybe they can help us."

"I doubt it," I lied. "Besides, even if they did I don't see how they could help."

"I suppose you're right," muttered Lynne. "It's just the mood is so desperate right now, if we had something, anything." She turned to the Good Detective. "Maybe we could question that phoney scientist again."

"Worth a try," muttered the Good Detective, getting up from his chair. "We should talk to Ridge and Memry."

The Bereted Investigator and the Freckle-Faced Cutie having coffee when Lynne and the Good Detective found them.

"Jowd, Lynne," the Bereted Investigator placed his coffee down and rushed towards us. "I heard about Cabanela, are you two ok?"

"I'm alive, thank the Gods," the Good Detective replied. "But Ridge, you know that guy that was caught snooping around the restricted area of the lab?"

The Bereted Investigator and the Freckle-Faced Cutie exchanged nervous glances.

"Yeah…" answered the Cutie, "what about him?"

"We need to talk to him," said Lynne. "We think he might have been working with whoever snatched Cabanela."

The Bereted Investigator hid his face in his hand and the Freckle-Faced Cutie gave a groan.

"We're sorry," said the Bereted Investigator. "But that's just not possible."

"What? Why not?" asked the Good Detective.

"He skipped bail," groaned the Cutie. "Fifty thousand dollars, would you believe it?"

"Bail!" Lynne was livid. "That guy infiltrated high-security lock-down, how the hell did he get bail?"

"We're heading to the Justice Minister's office after our coffee break to ask him just that," replied the Bereted Investigator. "The Chief nearly went through the roof when he found out."

"We're so sorry," said the Cutie sympathetically. "We're all worried about Cabanela, but we know how tight you three are, so…"

"It's ok," groaned the Good Detective. "Thanks for your help, anyway."

"We'll let you know if we find anything," the Bereted Investigator said reassuringly. "Good luck, with everything."

As he and the Cutie walked off, Lynne went up to the nearest wall and started banging her head against it.

"Hey, hey!" the Good Detective grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her around to face him. "We can't help Cabanela if we both have concussions!

"I don't know if I can take much more of this," wailed Lynne. "I never knew when I joined the force that I'd have to deal with magic meteorites and soul-eating ghosts!"

Lynne's breakdown was interrupted by the Detective in Green popping his head around a cubicle wall, "Um, Jowd?"

The Good Detective let go of Lynne and turned to face him, "Yes?"

"We've been interviewing the witnesses from the market square incident and, well…" he adjusted his glasses anxiously. "There's a problem. You'd better to come with me."

The Detective in Green took us out to the reception area, where the Detective in Blue was in a heated argument with our favourite reporter.

"You dirty rotten, scummy…! Jowd's one of the finest men we've ever had on the force!"

"Hey, squinty, I know what I saw. Your 'force's finest' was working with those blue guys who shot up the place."

"Who're you callin' squinty?"

"Hey, break it up!" Lynne rushed over and put herself between the two. "Frank," she turned to the Detective in Blue, "go get a coffee and cool your head, I'll handle this joker." The Blue and Green detectives left, and Lynne turned to Scrawny, "What do you want?"

"Answers," Scrany replied. "I was there, you know. I saw old fuzz-face working with those trigger-happy Blue Meanies."

The Good Detective tried to keep calm, "It's not what you think. I was coerced into helping those crooks."

"Yeah, right!" Scrawny scoffed. "It was obvious that you were calling the shots, you knew what you were doing and you were fine with it."

This was bad. In the other timeline, the Good Detective had served time for a crime that was not his doing and now it was happening all over again. I had to intervene.

"Your name is Reynard, right?" I asked him as I touched his core.

Scrawny gave me a quick once over, "Well, if it ain't the lucky black cat himself. As much as I'd love to chat, I'm kinda busy right now."

"Then you should listen to what I have to say," I replied. "I know to you it seemed as if Jowd was in league with the blue-skinned assassins, and I can't blame you for believing that."

"I know what I saw, Puss-in-Boots."

"I know, but you didn't see everything. Not as the dead would see it, anyway."

"Oh?"

"You want in on the Twister case, right?" I continued. "Well, I'm about to give it to you."

Scrawny narrowed his eyes and tilted back his head, "Go on."

"I'll tell you everything we know about the Twister," I said, "but in return, I want you to stay away from Jowd's family, I want you to stay away from that couple who got the head in the mail, and I want you to withdraw your claim that Jowd was working with the assassins willingly."

Scrawny folded his arms with a confident swagger, "Depends if I like what I hear."

So I told him everything, about the Temsik meteorite and its strange powers, about the powers it had granted me, and to the Twister. I told him about the awful way the Twister used these powers, about his corrupt soul and how it had been controlling the Good Detective back at the market square. But I could tell that Scrawny was having a hard time buying it.

"You're kidding me, right?" Scrawny said finally. "You're telling me that the Twister is some kind of psychic zombie?"

"I know it's hard to believe," I replied, "but surely the existence of ghosts like your father and I…"

"Get real!" snarled Scrawny. "Look here ghost kitty; I think you're just feeding me a load of BS so your beloved master can get off with a slap on the wrist. Well I ain't buying it!"

"Hasn't your father told him about his own encounter?" I asked him. "He saw the Twister kill the Temsik Park victim. You can ask him."

"Well, I should check on him," muttered Scrawny. "He hasn't made a peep since the hoo-hah at the market."

"I'll get him," I said, reaching for Toon-Face's flame inside the camera.

But as soon as I went into that camera, it was obvious that something was very, very wrong. Toon-Face was cowering in a corner, curled into a ball and muttering to himself incoherently.

"Dad?" said Scrawny with some concern. "Dad, what is it? What's wrong?"

Toon-Face turned to us, revealing the scratches across his blank white eyes.

"It's all lies…" he whimpered. "It wasn't my fault… I don't know him…"

"Dad!" Scrawny hollered in alarm. "What's happened to you?" He turned on me in a fury. "You! What the hell did you do to him!"

"No!" I replied hurriedly. "I didn't do this, he was like this before when I was trying to find out about the Twister from him, and-!"

But Scrawny was in no mood to listen. "Get away from me!" he yelled. "I can't trust you, any of you!"

I decided not to press the two of them any further, and withdrew from Scrawny's core.

"Screw you all!" Scrawny rounded on Lynne and the Good Detective. "You think you and your magic black cat can stop me? I'm gonna expose you filthy pigs for what you are and then you'll be sorry!"

"Hey, steady!" Lynne was taken aback. "What's with all the 'filthy pigs' all of a sudden?"

"I'll never trust a cop!" Scrawny snarled. "You're all the same!" and with that, he stormed out the door.

I had tried to diffuse the situation, maybe even get Scrawny on our side, but I had just made things worse. And Toon-Face; what had set him off? I was sure he knew much more about the Twister than he cared to admit, but getting it out of him was going to be a challenge.

"Lynne, I'm so sorry," is said to her. "This is all my fault – I tried to tell Reynard what really happened, but he wouldn't believe me!"

"You told him everything?"

"Yeah, even about the meteorite…"

"Well, if it's any consolation," said she, "it probably wouldn't have mattered anyway. There must've been hundreds of people at the square today who saw what happened."

"But that means… Jowd will…!"

"Until we catch the Twister, we have no way of clearing Jowd's name," Lynne told me. "We just need to be patient."

I returned to the world of the living, burning with frustration. Lynne explained everything to the Good Detective as we made our back to the offices.

"So, what now?" Lynne asked when she had finished.

"We wait," the Good Detective replied.

Well, waited for about an hour or so. I absolutely hated it. I was so used to doing things, being able to use my ghost tricks in a way to help people. Waiting around just reminded me how helpless we all were in our current situation.

Finally, an officer came up to us and from the looks of him he had something important to tell us. "There's a phone call for you, detectives," he said as he handed Lynne the receiver. "It's him."

Lynne put the call on speaker. The mood was tense as the Good Detective spoke.

"Detective Jowd here," he said stiffly. "Who is this?

I jumped into the phone so I could get a trace on a location. I had half-hoped that it would be one of the blue-skinned foreigners on the line, but I had no such luck. I could see the Twister in his bloodstained mask at the other end of the phone, behind him were Beauty and her short-statured cohort sitting on either side of a bound and gagged Loose & Lanky. Well at least he was alive for now.

"So," said the Twister with a smug air "you still have your job then, Detective Jowd? I would've thought that giving assistance to spies would have you locked in prison by now."

The Good Detective gritted his teeth, "What do you want?"

"Well, to put it more accurately, it's what my associates want," the Twister replied. "As you have probably realised by now, they're very interested in the powers of the Temsik meteorite. However, I'm loathe to the idea of giving up the piece inside my own body, for reasons with I'm sure are obvious to you."

This piece of information was very worrying. Yomiel had been desperate to get rid of the Temsik fragment inside of him, a desire that had finally convinced him to work together with Missile, the Good Detective and I to change the past and free him of that fate. I had considered the possibility that the Twister was enjoying himself too much for me to do likewise with him, and now he had confirmed just that.

"So you see, Detective," the Twister continued, "if you really wish to see Inspector Cabanela alive and in one piece ever again, my associates must have the meteorite. All of it."

"Hold it right there," the Good Detective growled. "I want proof that Cabanela is alive first."

"Your ghostly little friend hiding in your phone can see him just fine," the Twister snorted. "Yes; I know you're there, my little friend. Planning to come visit me now, are you?"

I felt cold as the Twister addressed me directly.

"I do hope you'll come and pay me a visit," gloated the Twister. "I've set up the most wonderful little game for us to play…"

"That's enough!" snarled Lynne. "We want to speak with Cabanela, now!"

The Twister gave a sigh, "Very well, if you insist."

He took the receiver towards Loose & Lanky as Beauty's cohort pulled the gag off his mouth.

"Jowd, Lynne! Don't do it!" Loose & Lanky hollered. "Don't give this scumbag the satisfaction of -argh!"

A swift kick to the head from the Twister sent Loose & Lanky crumpling to the floor.

"Yeesh, wasn't that kinda excessive?" I heard Beauty's cohort mutter.

"There's a nice little junkyard at the edge of town," said the Twister into the phone. "We'll be waiting for you. And don't try anything smart, or I will kill him, and your little ghost won't be able to bring him back, I promise you that. Oh, and speaking of which," the Twister seemed especially gleeful, "still having trouble finding your lost memories, my friend? Just be aware that you may not like what you find."

And with that, the Twister hung up the phone.

"That's odd," Lynne mused as she turned to the Good Detective. "The Twister seems to be under the impression that Sissel is someone else."

"He could be referring to Reynard's father," said the Good Detective. "That is, if the Twister did kill him like Reynard believes."

"We have to look it up," replied Lynne. "But not right now. Right now, we have to figure out how to save Cabanela and keep the meteorite from falling into the hands of the Twister and his allies."

"I'll go on ahead," I told Lynne. "If the Twister's set any traps for you, I can use my ghost tricks to get rid of them."

Lynne didn't seem very happy about this proposal, "Are you sure? What if the Twister tries to eat you?"

"I don't think he plans on doing that just yet," I replied. "All of this seems to be a game for him, so he wants us to stick around just so he can amuse himself."

"Kinda like how a cat will toy with a mouse?"

"Not funny."

"Sorry, it just came out," said Lynne with a sheepish smile. "But seriously, take care of yourself."

"I will."

"And there's no shame in making a run for it if things get nasty!"

"I'll be careful, I promise," I possessed the phone and brought up the number.

I hesitated as saw my destination on the other end of the line. I had believed that the Temsik fragment inside my body had made me invincible, that nothing could ever hurt me. Now I had met an enemy who was as every bit a threat to the dead as he was to the living. For the first time in a long time, I feared for my own safety. But what could I do – run away? No, that was out of the question. If I abandoned Loose & Lanky, and to that extent Lynne and the others, to such an awful fate I would never be able to forgive myself.

"Wish me luck," I called to Lynne as I took off down the phone line. I was going to need it.

The junkyard – this was where that Fateful Night had started over a year ago. Loose & Lanky had been a hostage here back then as well, although it has been Yomiel causing the trouble back then. Of course, he had long since repented for his crimes.

But this wasn't the time to be reminiscing, I had to clear away any traps, and perhaps free Loose & Lanky while I was at it. The first thing I did was manipulate the crane and make sure that it had nothing that could unexpectedly drop on top of anyone; while I would've liked to have made use of this sort of trap against the Twister's allies for myself it was just too risky. The second thing was take note of the fact that Tengo had settled himself in a nice little hiding place on the roof of the superintendent's office, his gun ready to pick off anyone who got too close. Well, let's see how many people he'd manage to shoot with a malfunctioning gun. Going into the office, Jeego was standing guard at the door, waiting to ambush anyone who came though. Once again, it was a simple matter of going into his gun and fooling with the parts until it wouldn't be able to work, making use of what I had learned from the semi-automatics at the market square.

Further into the room was the superintendent's desk, seated at which was Beauty. I noticed that Beauty seemed to have lost her usual confident swagger; in fact she almost seemed ill. Her Short-Statured Sidekick was busy at an espresso machine, making up coffee.

"Here, Beauty my dear," he handed her a cup.

"Thank you, Dandy. You may be a pain, but you have your uses," she took the coffee from him and took a sip, grimacing as she did. "Ugh! What's with this coffee, it's as weak as piss!"

"S-sorry Beauty," Dandy replied. "It came in these little pre-made packets and they don't seem to be past their use-by date…"

"It's this damn country," Jeego cut in, "they wouldn't know a decent infusion if you jammed it down their throat."

"Well," Beauty rolled her eyes at Dandy, "I suppose I can't blame everything that goes wrong on you." She took her cup of coffee and poured it into a nearby potted plant. "When's he gonna be finished down there, anyway?"

Dandy shuddered, "I'd wager he's giving the same treatment he gave to this junkyard's superintendent and poor old 42."

"42 was a fool," Beauty groaned, "thinking he could sell the meteorite on the black market behind our backs. And we needed to silence that superintendent. But what the Twister did was… excessive, to say the least."

All three of the spies looked nauseous as they recalled whatever it was the Twister had done to the superintendent and the Phoney Doctor. I tried not to guess, but I think it was fair to say that their demises had been fairly messy and painful.

Suddenly, Beauty sat up to attention, "Somebody's here."

Uh-oh. Beauty's 'sixth sense'. It had been something of a headache for me in the other timeline, although I never did find out just how Beauty was able to detect ghosts in the first place. Still, she could warn the Twister to my presence and then I'd be screwed. Beauty got out of her chair and began scanning around, carefully searching for something.

"C'mon Beau," groaned Jeego, "how could anyone have known we were gonna be here for them to plant a bug?"

"My sixth sense never lies," Beauty replied calmly.

"Maybe that implant in your head needs a tune up," Jeego quipped.

"And maybe you should shut up and watch your post," snapped Beauty.

Jeego said nothing although I did catch him sneer at Beauty before he turned back to the door.

"Um, Beauty my dear," Dandy tapped his cohort lightly on the shoulder. "Didn't the Twister say that your 'sixth sense' could also pick up those affected by the meteorite?"

Beauty stopped looking around and turned to Dandy, "A ghost, huh? The Twister did say he was expecting a 'special guest'."

"So uh… who's gonna warn him?" Dandy asked nervously.

None of them moved. It seemed that none of them relished the idea of having to deal with the Twister already.

"He could figure it out on his own, right?" Jeego asked finally.

"Won't he get mad or something if he finds out we didn't tell him?" Dandy replied.

"Well then, you go tell him," snarled Jeego.

Dandy's face seemed to turn green, "But, but… what if he's doing something real nasty to that cop? I just ate."

Beauty gave a groan, "I'll go." She got up from her seat and headed downstairs. "Have an antacid ready for me when I get back…"

I followed Beauty downstairs via the fan motor in the floor dividing the office from the basement and took a quick survey of the scene. The room was bare and empty for the most part, with the exceptions being the Twister standing near the doorway, next to him were two bloodstained tarps draped over what I took the bodies of the Phoney Doctor and the junkyard superintendent. I was glad I couldn't see them. On the opposite side of the room was three rows of shelves holding a toolbox, and below them was Loose & Lanky, a little worse for wear but alive and still conscious, but he was chained to the floor by his foot.

Beauty came downstairs, "We have an unwelcome guest."

The Twister just laughed, "I wondered what was taking him so long."

"So… what will you do?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"I have a nice little game set up for him and our noble man of the law," he sneered. He turned to Loose & Lanky. "Oh Mister Inspector!"

"What?" snapped Loose & Lanky, who was clearly in no mood for the Twister's 'games'.

"Now, now, is that any way to speak to such a gracious host? Especially when I've taken all this trouble to set up such a lovely little game for you and your friends." He took a small metal canister from under his jacket, "First of, care to guess what's in this?"

Loose & Lanky didn't reply, but from the look on his face he didn't think it was anything good.

"Aw, giving up so quickly? Alright then, I'll tell you," the Twister giggled, "its mustard gas!"

"M-mustard gas?" stammered Beauty. "Are you nuts? Where the hell did you get your hands on a banned chemical weapon?"

"That's none of your concern," the Twister replied. "Just round up your little crew and get ready to leave."

"Leave?" Loose & Lanky looked confused. "But what about the exchange for the meteorite?"

"Yes," Beauty said incredulously, "what about the meteorite?"

"Oh please, a short and simple little exchange? Far too easy!" replied the Twister. "Besides, they probably won't hand us the whole thing, if at all. I'm afraid we just have to let things play out for a little longer."

"This is insane!" snarled Beauty. "The deal is that you get us a piece of the Temsik and help us kill off anyone who knows about it! But instead you keep wasting our time and-!"

"Go and complain to your fearless leader if it bothers you so much," said the Twister. "but for now, I suggest you focus on getting you and your comrades out of here before the police arrive, and also I'd suggest you get your 'Angels of Death' to check that their tools of trade haven't been tampered with."

Beauty's face was purple with rage, but she didn't argue and instead stormed back up the stairs. The Twister turned back to Loose & Lanky.

"I'm sure you're well aware what mustard gas does, Inspector?" said the Twister.

Loose & Lanky didn't reply, but he was sweating buckets.

"It's a sulphur compound," said the Twister, stroking the canister with a gloved finger. "Not usually fatal, but the burns it causes upon contact with the skin leave unsightly, painful blisters. It irritates the eyes, and if you breathe it in you'll be lucky not to choke to death on your own mucus. Of course," the Twister chuckled, "that all depends on how well you do in this little game of ours. If you can reach that toolbox you might something useful, or you could wait for someone to come to your rescue, which is not very likely."

The Twister pulled a pin from the canister and an orange-brown gas began to slowly seep out. The Twister brought the canister up to his face, deeply inhaling the escaping fumes. Of course he was unaffected by the poison and giggled as he placed it on the ground.

"It's such an awful shame that I won't be able to stay and watch," the Twister said lazily. "But I have a hot date tonight – can't keep a lady waiting, I'm sure you understand, Inspector." The Twister leant forward, craning his neck to the side and waved to Loose & Lanky. "You kids have fun now! Maybe if you get lucky we can play again sometime?" And with that, the Twister turned around and walked back up the stairs.

Loose & Lanky leapt up and began clawing for the toolbox, but it was on the uppermost shelf, where he could've never reached it. I noticed the motorised hoist not too far away, so I jumped into it and caused it to move towards the shelves. Loose & Lanky noticed this.

"That you, Sissel?" he cried. "Oh Goooods, I hope so. You don't think you – COUGH! You don't think you could – COUGH COUGH! hand me that toolbox up there?"

I possessed the toolbox and began shaking. In the past I'd have only been able to make it open and shut, but once again the passing of ten years was on my side. Slowly I was able to rattle the toolbox to the edge of the shelf until it tipped off and crashed to the floor, Loose & Lanky jumping out of the way as it burst open. Out of the toolbox fell a single one-handed hatchet. Excellent, I thought. Now Loose & Lanky can cut through that chain.

Loose & Lanky, however, didn't share my sentiments, "That siiick sonnova bitch! This'll never get through that damn chain…"

My heart sank as I realised he was right, that there simply was no way that Loose & Lanky could swing that hatchet hard enough to break through the metal chain. The chain was bolted to the floor, so I jumped into the shackle around Loose & Lanky's ankle and tried to manipulate the lock. That didn't help, either. A lock, as it turns out, is filled with many tiny moving parts, most of which were too small for me to manipulate, and even if I could I would've needed to manipulate them all at once for the lock to open. I was already starting to panic when I heard a dull thud, followed by a holler from Loose & Lanky.

I jumped back into the toolbox and was aghast by what I saw – by the looks of it. Loose & Lanky had decided to take his chances with the hatchet, but his aim had missed, and instead of hitting the chain he had cut into his own leg!

"Gods and Saints, that fuckin' hurts!" Loose & Lanky snarled through gritted teeth. "That bastard, I'm gonna kick his ass!"

He winced as he pulled the hatchet from his shin. Then, he raised the hatchet above his head, and held his leg steady with his free hand. That's when I realised that Loose & Lanky wasn't aiming for the chain…

"No!" I cried. "Cabanela, DON'T!"

But even if he could hear me, I doubt it would've stopped him. The room was slowly but steadily filling with that horrid brown gas, and already small blisters were forming on Loose & Lanky's skin. I simply did my best to look away as the hatchet fell for a second time, then a third which finally did the job. Loose & Lanky quickly tore off his red scarf and tied it around his bloody stump of a leg, pulled his white jacket over his face and hobbled painfully towards the stairs. I was left behind in the toolbox but seeing that Loose & Lanky was just struggling to walk, I didn't hold it against him. If anything, my respect for the Loose & Lanky Lawman had just increased tenfold.

About a few minutes later, men wearing strange white suits that made them look like they were made of marshmallows came in and began collecting whatever they could find, including the two corpses and my toolbox. I was put into a plastic bag and taken outside where Lynne and a whole slew of other officers were waiting, including the Bereted Investigator and the Freckle-Faced cutie. Lynne was biting her lip and pacing around.

"Lynne, are you sure you're ok?" the Cutie asked her.

"I'm fine," Lynne replied, "it's just all this insanity and everything…"

The man carrying my bag was just about to pass Lynne by, so I took the opportunity to jump to her core and speak with her.

"Sissel!" Lynne was ecstatic when she saw me. "What a relief, I was afraid that sicko might've eaten you!"

"He'd eaten already," I replied. "The superintendent of this junkyard, and our missing Phoney Doctor."

"He killed his own ally?"

"Yeah, seems the guy was planning to sneak some of the Temsik meteorite for himself." I told Lynne what had happened in the office, how the Twister's own allies seemed to distrust him, and how Loose & Lanky and I had been forced to play the Twister's sick little game.

"Incredible," Lynne muttered, "all that just for a laugh."

"Yeah, I know. But Lynne, where's Jowd and Cabanela?"

Lynne sighed, "Cabanela's already at the hospital, they'll take care of him there. But Jowd…"

"Y-yes?" there was a part of me that didn't want Lynne to answer. "What about Jowd?"

"He's off the case, Sissel."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, somehow I knew this was going to happen and yet I still couldn't accept it, "Why?"

"The incident at market square," Lynne replied sadly. "Jowd was seen co-operating with the suspects by several witnesses and that means he's officially under investigation. And since we now know that the Twister is definitely working with these people that means Jowd's presence on the case is a conflict of interest."

"Has he been arrested?"

"Not yet, but still, this could ruin his whole career," Lynne despaired. "What's worse, Cabanela's injuries from that gas and hacking off his own foot will keep him out of action for a while…"

I realised just how complicated the situation had become, "Wait a second, Lynne. That's means-!"

"Yeah," Lynne said grimly. "I'm officially in charge."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: The Bird That Could Not Fly

The combined effects of the mustard gas and the loss of his foot took their toll on Loose & Lanky, and he was stuck in hospital for quite some time. However, he seemed to be in good spirits when Lynne, the Good Detective and I went to visit him.

"You scared the hell out of me, you know that?" said the Good Detective as he sat next to Loose & Lanky's bed.

"Yeeeeah, I gotta admit, I thought I was a goner for a while back there," Loose & Lanky wheezed.

"Sissel told me to tell you that he's sorry that he couldn't open that lock," Lynne said.

"Hey, tell that cooool cat not to sweat it!" Loose & Lanky grinned. "If our lucky black cat hadn't shown up, I would've –COUGH!"

"Try not to overdo it, you idiot," the Good Detective scolded.

Loose & Lanky had to settle his coughing fit before he could speak again, "How you two holding up on your end?"

The Good Detective looked at the ground shamefaced, "You should've seen the look on Kamila's face when she heard they took my badge. I can't believe I let myself get used like that…"

"From what Sissel tells me, there wasn't much you could've done anyway," Lynne said comfortingly. "And now that I think about it, I reckon that's probably how the Twister was snatching his victims in the first place."

"Sit in them like a toad and direct them to the slaughterhouse," muttered Loose & Lanky. "How are you holding up, baby? Enjoying being the biiiig boss?"

"Not at all," groaned Lynne. "Ridge and Memry and the others are all looking to me for answers and I'm coming up with a big fat zip. Just when will you get outta here anyway?"

"Hopefully by next week," Loose & Lanky replied.

"Really?" Lynne jumped up. "That's great!"

The Good Detective didn't share her sentiments, "Hold it, Cab; you're in no shape to be on the field. How can you lead the investigation in your state?"

"Weeeell… I reckon you're right about that," Loose & Lanky looked Lynne straight in the eye, "so I've decided that I won't be leading."

Lynne's eyes went wide, "Wh… what?"

"You heard me baby – look at me," he pointed to his stump of a leg, and presented the blisters on his arms, "I've lost a foot, my eyesight's shot, and I'm still coughing up phlegm. I'm useless."

"B-but," Lynne wrung her hands, "I don't have the experience you and Jowd have!"

"I'll still be active on the case, and I'll give you advice if you need it," Loose & Lanky reassured her, "but you'll be calling the shots and you get the final say."

"I'm here too, remember?" I told Lynne. "You can do this Lynne. I know you can."

"Cabanela and I—and Sissel, of course – will always have your back," said the Good Detective. "I can't help you officially, but I'll be sure Sissel finds his way to you."

Lynne didn't reply, but I could tell from her smile she was somewhat relieved.

The rest of that week was spent trying to keep up the morale of the Little Lady, as she had become very despondent at the news of her father's suspension. On this particular day, she wasn't in much of a mood to play with my catnip mouse, so I simply sat in her lap and allowed myself to be stroked.

"Dad's a good person," she muttered half-heartedly. "I know he would never help those bad people…"

My mind was spinning as I thought about the case. In the other timeline, Yomiel had a clear motive; he was desperate to end his pain. But the Twister enjoyed his condition. He seemed to have no other reason for his crimes other than the sheer pleasure of watching others suffer. And what did he stand to gain by helping the blue-skinned foreigners? They seemed to be tiring of his antics, but I reasoned that they were too afraid to simply snatch his Temsik fragment and run. No, Sith was a cunning fellow, that's why in the past timeline he had sent Yomiel and the rest of us to a lonely fate at the bottom of the sea. And it was likely that they had invested too much time and energy to simply abandon the mission altogether, a chance for a piece of the Temsik meteorite was too good to pass up. And what about that coreless body from Loose & Lanky's kidnapping? Why didn't the Twister just use his own?

I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I mustn't have heard the phone ring.

"Jowd, it's Cabanela," the Beloved Mother called out. "He wants to speak with you in private."

"I'll take it in my study," the Good Detective replied.

That was the signal for me to follow the Good Detective into his office so I could listen in on the conversation. I felt bad about leaving the Little Lady in her time of need, but if I was ever going to clear her father's name, I had to be involved.

I crawled into the file cabinet – my new designated hiding spot since it was pretty much off-limits – and leapt from my body into the phone as the Good Detective took the call. I could see Loose & Lanky, having been finally released from hospital, at the payphone on the other end, leaning against the wall and holding onto his crutch with his free hand. Behind him, a group of uniformed officers were keeping a crowd of curious onlookers behind the yellow tape, supervised by a visibly upset Lynne. I couldn't help but feel that the area looked somewhat familiar.

"What's new, Cabanela?"

"Hey, Jowd," Loose & Lanky greeted him. "That cooool cat of yours free to come round?"

"Is it a lead on the Twister case?"

"Well, no, buuuut…" Loose & Lanky looked over his shoulder towards Lynne and the others. "I could really use his talents right now."

"What is it, Cabanela? What's wrong?"

"It's Yomiel, and his girl," Loose & Lanky replied grimly. "I know I shouldn't be doing this, but after what we put them through… I just can't leave them that way."

I didn't need to hear another word. If something had happened to my Old Friend and his Fiancée, then of course I had to go there and help him.

"Sissel should be around shortly," the Good Detective replied. "Take care of yourself."

I sped down the line as the Good Detective hung up the phone, hitching a ride in Loose & Lanky's crutch as he hobbled back towards Lynne. I jumped to her core as soon I was close enough.

"I heard you needed a favour," I said to her. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"We got a report of a commotion," Lynne replied sadly, "and when we came out… oh, Sissel, it's awful. Why would they do something like that?"

I could see Lynne was very distressed, so I decided not to press her any further, "I think it might be better if you just showed me."

I jumped into Lynne's badge as she walked into to the taped-off area, and what I saw broke my heart. Lying in a pool of blood, face down and side-by-side, were Yomiel and his Fiancée – dead. Yomiel's eyes were shut tight, his face taught in a pained expression; the Fiancée's eyes, on the other hand, were wide open and staring into space like broken china doll. Even after all that had happened with the Twister, seeing the man whom over ten long years I had grown to call my friend in this manner shook me to the core.

I did my best to hide my grief as I turned back to Lynne.

"Can you help them?" she asked me.

"Well uh, y-yeah, they still have their cores so…"

Lynne looked at me with some concern, "Sissel, are you ok?"

"I, uh…" I flustered as I thought of an explanation, "it's just we saw them not so long ago. It's just a shock to see them like this…"

"Well, you can fix that, right?"

"Uh yeah, I-I'll get right on it…" I jumped away from Lynne and straight into Yomiel's core. Anything to get away from that dreadful scene.

Yomiel was already conscious when I got there, as I had already expected. Neither of us said anything at first. We hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms last time we had seen each other.

"I was hoping you could come," Yomiel said finally. "Sorry I had to greet you like that, though."

"Mind telling me what happened?" I asked him.

Yomiel shifted uneasily. "S-Sissel fell off the roof…"

"Of your apartment building?"

"Yeah."

"How did you end up dead, though?"

"Well uh… to be honest, I jumped after her."

I was dumbfounded, "Wait, did I hear you right?"

Yomiel looked towards the ground and rubbed his arm, "Yes."

"Yomiel. Please tell me you're joking."

He didn't reply.

Incredible. I was so furious that I wanted to scratch his face again. "What the hell? That has gotta be the single most stupid thing I've-!"

"Sissel, listen," Yomiel raised his head, looking me straight in the eye, "remember when we went back to ten years ago, how the statute nearly fell on Lynne? You remember what you said, right?"

That's right. I had feared that the memory of such a violent death at such a young age would have a negative impact on Lynne. "There's a very slim chance of your wife actually remembering anything, though," I told him.

"I know, but I can't risk it, not how she is now!" Yomiel said with an air of desperation. "Ever since we got that thing on our doorstep, Sissel has been… She's been getting worse."

"Worse?"

"Sissel has always been a little sensitive," Yomiel explained. "But lately, she's been on edge, jumping at shadows, waking up screaming in the middle of the night. I've come home and she crying, but she's been evasive and won't talk to me and…!" Yomiel stopped to catch his breath; I could see he was on the verge of tears. "I can't risk it, Sissel. If she remembers any of this, it could break her. Please."

I could see his point. It wasn't unusual for some to regain their memories straight away, and if the Fiancée's current state of mind was as Yomiel believed it to be it could spell disaster. I could take a guess that Yomiel had thrown himself off that building not long after the Fiancée fell, so there shouldn't be an issue with timing.

"For the record," I said as we went back in time, "I still think you're an idiot."

We started out in his empty apartment, but the door had been left open. Yomiel, it seemed, had just arrived home from work and quickly noticed something was wrong.

"Sissel? Sissel, are you there? Where are you?"

He looked around, trying to stay calm but I could see that he was panicking. He rushed back out into the hall and went up to the door of a neighbour's door and knocked frantically.

"Have you seen her?" he raved as his neighbour answered the door. "She's not at home, where is she?"

"Whoa, calm down there," the neighbour replied. "I haven't the foggiest idea of what you're goin' on about."

"Sissel!" Yomiel cried frantically. "My wife – she should be at home, but the door was open-!"

"Oh yeah, her. Passed her by in the hall 'bout a minute ago, she was headed for the roof and muttering to herself 'bout somethin' or other…"

Yomiel rushed to the stairs leading to the roof, leaving his neighbour perplexed and put off.

"You're welcome," he called out sarcastically as he shut the door.

Yomiel had either ignored or simply not heard his neighbour as sped up stairs, he nearly ripped the door leading out to the roof off its hinges in his mad rush to reach his wife.

There, against the backdrop of the night sky was the Fiancée, her white nightgown flapping in the wind and she danced merrily on the ledge. She was singing to herself.

"It was mother who slaughtered me, it was father who ate me, but pretty Marlinchen looked for my bones, and laid them 'neath the juniper tree…"

"Sissel?" Yomiel called out to her. "What are you doing out here?"

The Fiancée stopped singing for a moment and turned to face him. There were dark circles under her eyes and her skin was unhealthily pale. Her gaze seemed to look right through Yomiel, just barely acknowledging that he was there. I couldn't believe that this was the same happy, cheerful woman I had met three times already.

She didn't reply to him, instead turning away from him and going back to her bizarre dancing and singing, "But pretty Marlinchen looked for my bones, and laid them 'neath the juniper tree, kywitt, kywitt, kywitt, oh what a beautiful bird am I!"

"H-how about I take you inside, huh?" Yomiel cautiously made his way towards her, holding out his hand. "It's gotta be freezing out here. How about I make you some hot chocolate, huh?"

The Fiancée giggled at this suggestion and started to walk onto a length of pole sticking out the ledge, overhanging the street below; I saw the fear Yomiel's eyes as she wobbled dangerously. By now, people on the street had noticed the strange girl dancing on the roof ledge and their voices could be heard rising from below.

"…Is she high or something…?"

"…Better call the police…"

"…Lover's spat, I reckon…"

"C'mon Sissel," Yomiel sobbed, "th-this isn't funny anymore. Please, just come down and let's talk about this…!"

The Fiancée, having by now reached the end of the pole, just gave another giggle, gazing towards the empty sky and started up another song, "Ring around the rosy, a pocket full of posies…"

She lifted her foot out towards the open air.

"Sissel…" Yomiel's face was pale, there were beads of sweat on his brow, "please don't do this."

"…Ashes to ashes…"

The hubbub from below grew louder.

"I… I think she's going to-!"

"Oh Gods!"

"Shit! Everyone back off!"

The Fiancée started to lean forward, and Yomiel began to choke in panic.

"…We all…"

"No…"

"…Fall…"

"Sissel, no!"

"…Down."

"NO!"

Yomiel leapt out to grab her, but it was too late. The Fiancée was hurtling towards the earth before he could reach her, and her body landed on the cold, hard concrete with a sickening thud, followed by the screams of the crowd below. Yomiel stood there at the ledge, shaking, tears in his eyes, unable to look away from the splayed and broken form of beloved wife. After a few seconds, he gritted his teeth and climbed up on to the ledge. Folding his arms across his face, Yomiel jumped forward into the open air, causing the crowd below to scream again. I couldn't watch any more after that.

"You said that she fell," I said as I turned back to him.

I realised that Yomiel was trying to hold back his tears. "I couldn't bring myself to say it," he admitted. "I still don't want to believe that I… that I…"

"That you what?"

"That I failed her."

I couldn't bear to see him hurting like this. "You won't fail her," I reassured him. "Not as long as I'm around. I won't let her die on you, and then you two can focus on getting things back on track, okay?"

I restarted the sequence of events from the bottom of the building, where I had found the bodies of Yomiel and his wife. I jumped from him towards a trashcan and up the drainpipe, up to the roof. There was the Fiancée, dancing and singing to herself but not on the ledge yet, thankfully.

"If I could just keep her off that ledge until you get out here, you could grab her and pull her inside," I said to Yomiel.

"There's not much up here for you to take advantage of," said Yomiel anxiously.

"I'll think of something," I told him. "I won't let her die. I won't let you die."

"Bobbie Shafto's gone to sea," the Fiancée was saying to and fro as she sang. "Silver buckles on his knee…"

She started to make her way to the ledge. I frantically looked around for anything that might stop her, and then I noticed that attached to the end of the pole was a pulley, which had a length of rope wrapped around it, part of which rested on the building roof.

"How long would you say that is?" I asked Yomiel, pointing towards the rope.

"It's used for moving furniture between floors," Yomiel told me. "It usually reaches all the way down, but there's a switch that keeps the rope from rolling back out."

"Right," I took possession of the rope, manipulating it into a small noose and laid it in the path the Fiancée.

"…But he'll come back and marry me…"

The Fiancée stepped into the rope. Quickly it tightened the rope around her ankle, good and fast. She didn't even notice as she climbed up on the ledge.

"…Pretty Bobbie Shafto."

"That should do it," said I. "now for that switch."

She was up on the ledge, and then the door flung open, and Yomiel came out. I jumped into the switch controlling the rope. But there was a problem. The switch was stuck and I was having serious trouble getting it to move.

"Sissel, what's wrong?" Yomiel cried. "She's about to jump any second!"

"I'm trying!" I replied. "How long has it been since this thing's been used?"

"You mean it's stuck?" Yomiel panicked. "Oh Gods, she's going to – no, please, make it stop!"

But despite this setback, luck was still on our side. The still-living version of Yomiel had seen the rope around his wife's foot, and just as she was about to fall, he lunged for the switch. Our combined effort finally got the switch to move. Yomiel gave a scream as his fingers got caught in the gears, but the rope gave a crack as it became taught, and the cheers of the crowd from below confirmed our success.

"I-I'm… I'm amazed that worked the first time…" Yomiel said as he finally relaxed.

"I'm amazed that we managed to make work at all," I replied. "Sorry about your fingers, though."

"They'll heal. I'm just glad she's ok." He smiled at me, "I owe you big, you know that."

"No," I shook my head, "you owe me nothing. You're my friend, Yomiel. I was doing what any friend would."

Yomiel didn't reply. We were silent as we returned to the present.

I made my way from the roof back down the drainpipe and to the sidewalk. It seemed that the commotion from the Fiancée's uncanny display had resulted in Lynne and Loose & Lanky still being present at the scene. An ambulance had been called and they were tending to Yomiel's fingers as he sat on the building doorstep. The Fiancée, who was still fairly incoherent, was seated inside the ambulance were her ankle and arms were being tended to, evidently she hadn't escaped the incident without injury. I saw Lynne walk up to Yomiel, and the too looked at each other nervously.

"Yomiel, right?" Lynne fumbled with the buttons on her coat. "I wanted to say sorry for going off at you last time we saw each other."

"No, it's alright, really," Yomiel rubbed the back of his head with his good hand. "I deserved it."

"No, you didn't," Lynne insisted. "Jowd and Cabanela told me the whole story – how you nearly got yourself killed instead of just running away."

Yomiel was silent, but I could see he was uncomfortable.

"You saved my life," Lynne continued. "I know you weren't planning on it, but you did, and I really just wanted to say-"

"Please, just stop," Yomiel interrupted her.

Lynne was taken aback, "Excuse me?"

"I don't deserve your thanks," Yomiel explained, "because I wasn't trying to save you. I was trying to die."

She didn't say a word.

"I'd given up all hope," he continued. "I thought that my life was over. Everything I did that day was out of pure selfishness and nothing else. So please," Yomiel got up from the ground, "I only deserve your anger and hatred. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to see about my wife."

Lynne watched him walk off towards the ambulance, stunned. I went up to her core.

"He's obviously carrying a lot of guilt," I told her. "I wouldn't worry too much about it if I were you."

"Yeah," Lynne replied half-heartedly. "You're probably right. Still, poor guy…"

Loose & Lanky hobbled over towards Lynne, "I've talked with McClaw, and he says there's no doubt about it."

Lynne groaned, "You're kidding me, right? The guy's just managed to avoid seeing his wife die and now I've got to arrest her?"

"Wait, arrest her?" I jumped into the conversation, alarmed. "What are you talking about?"

"We didn't come here about a suicide attempt, Sissel," Lynne explained. "We came following a suspect in an arson case. Someone set the Chicken Kitchen alight – burnt it to the ground."

"What?"

Lynne sighed, "Witnesses say it was one of the waitresses who committed the crime. We eliminated all of the day-time waitresses as suspects, so that leaves…"

"Oh no..."

"'Fraid so," Lynne said grimly. "Yomiel's wife, the girl who happens to share your name."

"For the love of-!" I seethed. "You could've told me all of this before you sent me to save them!"

"Sorry to spring it on you like that," Lynne said apologetically. "But you pretty much jumped in before I got a chance."

This had to be a mistake, "Are you sure it's her? Anyone could've gotten a uniform and-!"

"Sorry," Lynne shook her head. "Both the head chef and the bartender say they saw her light the fire. They say they saw her face clearly enough to make a positive identification."

Once again my head was spinning, I had saved the lives of Yomiel and his Fiancée but for what? "I should head home," I told her. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Sissel, are you sure you're okay?" Lynne asked me. "You seem to get pretty emotional over these two."

"I-I, er… I'm sorry Lynne, but I have to go. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"But, Sissel – wait!"

I left Lynne and Loose & Lanky to deal with the arson. I was a coward, running away like that. It was getting harder and harder for me to continue making up excuses to protect Yomiel. Should I tell her the truth, the whole truth? Should I bring up those painful memories that we'd tried so hard to leave behind? It didn't seem to be necessary, so why bother?

Making things worse was the fact that I had just lied to Lynne – I didn't plan on leaving straight away, but instead I just wanted to make one last check on Yomiel and his Fiancée to make sure that they were okay. I snaked my way towards the ambulance, where Yomiel and the Fiancée were getting fixed up. I had expected that she would've come to her senses by now, but she was still in a state of delirium, and Yomiel was trying desperately to bring her round.

"Get away from me," the Fiancée slurred. "Leave me alone."

"Sissel it's me," Yomiel reached out his hands towards hers. "Yomiel. Your husband."

She shrunk away from him, curling herself up into a ball, "Don't touch me."

Lynne and Loose & Lanky approached them. I could see the shock on Yomiel's face as he noticed the latter's missing foot, but he said nothing and greeted them as cordially as possible.

"I want to thank you both for all your help-"

"Uh, you miiight want to hold off on that for a while," Loose & Lanky said awkwardly.

He explained the whole situation with the Chicken Kitchen to Yomiel, and the suspicion of his wife's involvement.

"That's insane," said Yomiel with a nervous chuckle. "That place has been good to Sissel, she wouldn't do something so stupid. Right Sissel?"

He turned to his wife, who didn't reply. Instead she hunched over and folded her arms close to her body, as if she were trying to hide them. I saw Yomiel's face fall. He snatched his wife's arms and pulled them out so he could see them clearly. From the wrists to the elbows, they were covered in bright red burns.

Yomiel shook his head, his mouth hanging open, "Sissel, what the hell…?"

The Fiancée gulped, "Th-the worms… the worms made me do it…"

"Sissel, look at me!" Yomiel gripped her by the shoulders and pulled her up to face him. "Something is going on, I know it! Please, Sissel, I can't help you if you don't-"

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME!"

The Fiancée raised her hand and whacked it across his face, hard. Yomiel reeled back in shock, letting go of his wife as he tried to process what had just happened. The fact that a whole crowd of curious onlookers had just seen the whole ugly scene didn't help matters.

This was bad enough, but I had just noticed something else that made me worry. The Fiancée had a Core of the Dead, and I knew for certain that I hadn't caused it to be there. There were only two other ghosts that I knew of right now – the Twister, and Toon-Face. The Twister had boasted about his misuse of the power to rewind time, but I couldn't be sure if he was telling the truth, and even so why would he save the Fiancée and let her escape? I wasn't sure if Toon-Face had the power, and even if he did I found it highly unlikely for him to have run across the Fiancée, and even if he did, was he really the type to care enough to try and help? I was reminded of that mysterious, unseen ghost that had caused the Fiancée so much grief when we had gone to the Chicken Kitchen. Was there another ghost out there?

I reached to Yomiel's core, I had to talk to him, "Yomiel! Are you alright?"

Yomiel's expression showed his hurt and confusion, he looked at me once before turning his back to me, "You should go home, Sissel."

"But, Yomiel-!"

"Please, Sissel."

I wanted to stay and warn him, to comfort him. But I afraid to push him and end up causing either one of us into saying or doing something we might regret, so I respected his wishes and started to leave.

"You have Jowd's number if you need me," I told him as I headed back to the phone. "Don't be afraid to use it."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Rumour, Shame and Scandal

The next day heralded a visit from Lynne and Missile. On the surface it was just a friendly social call, but in truth it was a chance for me and Lynne to catch up. The Little Lady greeted them at the door with as much cheer as she could muster.

"Is Mister Cabanela feeling any better?" she asked as Lynne stepped inside.

"He can finally breathe without choking," Lynne replied optimistically, "though it might be some time before he'll be stepping back into the old dancing shoes. By the way, I heard you were a little down in the dumps, so I brought Missile along," she gestured to the Valiant Doggie as he sat patiently beside her. "He's a master at chasing away the blues, ain'tcha little guy?"

Missile gave a bark to show he was in agreement, then jumped up on the Little Lady and began to lick her face.

"Thanks Lynne," said the Little Lady quietly, "Sissel's been very unsociable lately. He keeps hiding in Daddy's study and I'm sure he knows I'm not allowed in there."

The Little Lady grabbed a moth-eaten sock and began playing tug-of-war with Missile, and Lynne came over to my spot on the couch and gave me a scratch behind the ears.

"That's gotta hurt," Lynne chuckled.

"Can't say I blame her," I replied. "Now's the time she'd be needing me most, after all."

"Speaking of which, what got into you last night?"

I had been dreading this topic. But during the night I had ample time to think of an explanation that wasn't too far from the truth but didn't reveal too much at the same time.

"I didn't live with Jowd and his family in the other timeline," I told her. "Yomiel was the one who ended up adopting me."

"Ah, I see. So he and the other Sissel were your owners. No wonder you were so upset last night."

"Yeah, Yomiel and I were pretty close."

"You must've been happy to see them when we got the call about the head."

"Well, the circumstances weren't favourable, but yes, it was good to see him again."

"If that's all it was," said Lynne, "then why didn't you just say so in the first place, you goose?"

"I didn't think it mattered," I replied.

"Don't you miss them?"

"Well yeah. But that past doesn't exist anymore. I wanted to focus on the life I have now, and for them to do the same. Of course," I sighed, "seeing them in their current situation is really upsetting me. I wish I could help them, but…"

"I'm sure she'll settle down once we catch the Twister," Lynne said. "Speaking of which, I think I might have a lead."

"Really? That's great!"

"Yeah…" Lynne grimaced slightly. "Don't celebrate just yet. I need to convince them to cooperate first."

"Well, who is it?"

Lynne made a face like she had just eaten something incredibly nasty, "Reynard Charivari and his ghost-dad."

I blinked in surprise, "Last time I spoke with him, he wanted nothing to do with us."

"Yeah, but I think I might have the big, juicy carrot that jackass wants," Lynne said slyly. "I've done some research into his dad's case."

"I see. So, what happened old Toon-Face anyway?"

"It's kinda weird, really," said Lynne thoughtfully. "Kenshin Charivari was working as an accountant. Anyway, about an hour before the estimated time of death he calls up the police in a panic, telling them he had uncovered some horrible secret that had been covered up. The next morning, he was found hanging from a fire escape in some back alley. The police at the time ruled it a suicide."

"Is it just me," I mused, "or does something about that scenario sound kinda off?"

"Glad you agree. Cabanela thought it was pretty weird too, when I showed him the file. He said that had he been in charge of the investigation, he would've certainly have dug deeper."

"So you decided to get your hands dirty, eh?" I grinned. "Just how long ago did old Toon-Face die, anyway?"

"Only a week after the Temsik incident," Lynne replied. "So it's very likely that Reynard's hunch about the Twister killing his dad may be right, although I'd like to know how he came to think that."

"I'd gather it'd have something to do with that 'horrible secret'," said I.

"Cabanela and I are gonna call on Ren later today," Lynne said. "Hopefully we can get him and Toon-Face on our side."

"Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

"Great. You go make yourself scarce and I'll get ready to go."

I jumped off the couch and was headed for the study when I was knocked over by Missile barrelling into me as he chased after the rubber ball that the Little Lady had thrown for him.

"Oh! Sorry Sissel!" he yipped.

"It's okay," I laughed. "I have to admit, all this mess with the Twister, I haven't had much time to just have fun."

"What have you been up to, anyway?"

Time doesn't flow the same in the World of the Dead, so I took time to tell him all that had taken place in the past week, including how Loose & Lanky lost his foot and my latest encounter with Yomiel and the Fiancée. Missile showed great interest as I told him how I was having more and more trouble keeping Lynne from uncovering the truth about the Fateful Night.

"You know," Missile twitched his ears and cocked his head to the side, "I've been thinking. Wouldn't it be easier to just tell Miss Lynne the truth?"

"What?" I said, stunned. "No, of course not."

"I think you should," he said.

"No way. Lynne's already got enough on her plate without having to take in the events of the other past, and I don't want to cause more trouble for Yomiel either."

"But what if she finds out anyway?" Missile said anxiously. "She'd get really mad if she found you'd been lying to her, and then she'll be mad at me and Mister Jowd and Mister Yomiel…"

"Seriously Missile, how would she find out?" I scoffed. "Apart from the four of us, there's no one else able to remember that night. Lynne doesn't need to know, so stop worrying about it."

I returned to the World of the Living and continued on to the study, feeling slightly annoyed by my conversation with Missile. I had great respect for the Valiant Little Doggie, but at the time the idea of simply telling Lynne the truth about Yomiel was to me the most absurd suggestion. Making it worse was the nagging feeling that Missile was right. Whether either of us liked it or not, the threads of fate that connected Yomiel and I were beginning to resurface and were in danger of becoming a tangled mess. But I simply shrugged off these fears and doubts as I crawled into the filing cabinet, leaving my body and making my way back to the lounge room and let Lynne know I was ready.

"Are you sure you won't stay for a cup of tea?" the Beloved Mother asked Lynne as she went to leave.

Lynne shook her head, "Can't, I gotta chase up a possible witness." She bent down and gave the Valiant Doggie a pat on the head. "You be good while I'm gone, okay Missile?"

Missile gave a few barks to reassure Lynne he would be on his best behaviour, then, with me in her little pink notebook, she headed out the door and we were on our way to Scrawny's home.

We met up with Loose & Lanky outside of the apartment that Scrawny shared with the Spiky-Haired Rocker. Lynne rapped the door with her knuckles, and from inside there came the sound of groans and fumbles, and the door was opened a crack and the face of the Spiky-Haired Rocker peeked out, squinting his eyes as the sunlight fell on his face.

"Sorry, I'm a Pastafarian…" he muttered sleepily.

"We're not affiliated with any religious groups," Lynne replied.

"Oh," he sniffed. "Well we're not interested in Tupperware or makeup or a new phone service, so…"

"We're not aaaany of those things," Loose & Lanky interrupted, sounding a little peeved. "We're with the city police."

Spiky seemed to wake up all of a sudden at the mention of the police, "Whoa dude, th-that whole thing a week ago, I've already told you guys-!"

"We're not here about that either!" Lynne snapped, as she started to lose patience. "Look, is Reynard home? He's the one we want to talk to."

Spiky chewed on his lip as he though the whole thing over, "Uh yeah, he ain't home right now…?"

Scrawny came from behind Spikey and pushed him back inside, "Outta my way, chucklehead, I'll handle this." He caught sight of Loose & Lanky on his crutch, "Geez dude, what happened to your foot?"

"It got riiiped off while I was escaping a pack of rabid tabloid reporters," Loose & Lanky quipped back.

Scrawny didn't look too impressed, "Yeah, funny. Look, what is it you-?"

"RAID!"

There came a loud crash from the side of the apartment. Lynne and Scrawny rushed over as Loose & Lanky struggled to keep up. One of Spiky's band mates, the Lean & Hairy Rocker, was half-naked and dangling head-first out of the window, having gotten himself stuck.

Spiky's voiced came from inside, "Dude, I don't think they're actually after your special brownies."

Scrawny put a hand to his forehead and let out a groan, "Just wait here so I can get this moron loose…"

"No way," Scrawny replied in disbelief, "You're seriously gonna reopen my dad's case?"

Things back at Scrawny's apartment were a bit chaotic thanks to Spiky and his band mates. It had taken some convincing from Lynne, but eventually he had reluctantly agreed to join her on the steps of the city Courthouse while Loose & Lanky took care of the paperwork to reopen the investigation.

"Scout's honour," beamed Lynne. "I thought it sounded pretty fishy, so I wanna set things right."

Scrawny leaned back, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes, "What's the catch?"

Lynne sighed, "We were hoping you could lay off on our crime scenes, on our witnesses, and on Jowd and his family."

"And to withdraw my witness statement from back at the market square?"

"Well, no," Lynne chewed on a thumbnail. "I can't ask you to lie. You know what you saw, plus it would be pretty weird if you just changed your statement a whole week after the event, and it would conflict with what everyone else says they saw."

Scrawny raised a quizzical eyebrow, but he just shrugged, "That all?"

"One last thing," said Lynne. "We wanna hear your theory on the Twister."

Scrawny fell quiet, and gave Lynne a suspicious sideways glance.

"We know you think the Twister killed your dad all those years ago," Lynne continued. "I need to know why you think that. We'd also like your dad to tell us if he remembers anything about what happened to him. Anything you can tell us could bring us closer to nailing this monster once and for all."

Scrawny tugged at his ear, he shifted in his seat uneasily, "I dunno…"

"Ren," I spoke to him myself, "you don't… you don't trust the police, do you?"

Scrawny gave a scowl. "The cops have been nothing but trouble for me," he said out loud, so everyone could hear. "And by that, I mean before I became a paparazzo. I know I'm a dirt bag," he continued, "but only 'coz it's the only chance I got at finding the truth."

We were all silent for a moment. Then, I spoke to Scrawny again.

"We want to find the truth too," I told him. "I'm not asking us to be friends, Reynard. But I think we both stand to gain a lot by forming a truce. Please, Ren. Your father isn't the only one in need of justice. At least he still has his soul."

Scrawny didn't say anything for a while. "That freaky shit with the Twister being some Lovecraftian nightmare," he said finally, "you were tellin' me the truth back then?"

"It's not the sort of thing I could make up," I'd replied.

"I read the file," Lynne chipped in, "and I don't think your dad killed himself."

Scrawny bit his lip and was quiet for a moment. "Fine," he sighed, and he took an old faded photograph from out of his pocket and showed it to Lynne, "I guess I should tell you what I thi – what I know about the Twister. About my dad."

I possessed the photograph to see for myself. It was an old and faded image of man and a young boy embracing one another. The man was obviously Toon-Face, although his eyes were normal as opposed to those staring blank dots, and the boy I could easily guess to be a much younger Scrawny. It wasn't just the age that was different, though – the expression on the boy's face gave me the impression of an open and friendly child, much like the Little Lady back home. Scrawny must've really taken his father's death very hard to become the gratingly offensive man we knew today.

"My dad worked as an accountant for the deBok household," Scrawny explained. "Sometimes, when he was busy he'd take me along. I usually stayed in the servant's quarters and out of sight. But sometimes," Scrawny's gaze drifted a little, "I was allowed to play with the rich kids. I 'member 'bout sixteen or so years ago, I musta been, oh, five or six, this one kid took a liking to me, don't remember his name," Scrawny took a deep breath, "but he was whacked. Seriously. His favourite 'game' was to hold my head under the water and see how long I could go without breathing. Another time, he got this puppy…" Scrawny looked a little ill. "You do not wanna know what he did to the poor thing. It took so long to die."

"You're kidding me, right?" Lynne said, bewildered. "Just how old was this kid?"

"About twice my age, I reckon." Scrawny replied. "All the kids were terrified of him, including his own cousins, and probably his siblings although I can't recall if he actually had any. Kid was whacked. But his dad was oblivious to all this, doted on that kid, gave him everything he ever wanted. I know it sounds crazy, but it's the gospel truth. This kid, he, well, he was pure evil. That's the only way I can describe it. Anyway, my dad eventually found out and he got pissed. He quit his job and took me away from all that shit, but it wasn't over. He threatened to sue," Scrawny looked Lynne straight in the eye, "he told that kid's dad that he'd expose what a psycho that kid was and they'd lock him up and throw away the key."

Neither Lynne nor I said a word. Were we simply too overcome with shock and disbelief.

"Problem was that the deBok's had their sticky fingers in a lot of fat pies," Scrawny said, "and hands in some very powerful pockets. We didn't stand a chance," Scrawny's gaze fell back to the floor. "Dad decided it was best just to cut our losses and move on. He was still mad, of course, but he knew there was no sense in trying to take those guys on. Then one day, 'bout five years later, dad remembered something…"

"What kinda something?" Lynne tilted her head to the side.

"He never told me what, exactly," Scrawny scratched the back of his head. "All he ever told me was that he had something about that whacko kid that even his dad couldn't ignore, something so awful that he had to expose the truth, no matter the consequences. He went out the door and that was the last time I saw him alive," Scrawny started to tear up a bit. "They found him in some forgotten alleyway…"

There were a few seconds of silence.

"But what I want to know is," Lynne finally asked, "just what makes you think the Twister is the one who killed your father?"

Scrawny looked back up at Lynne, "From the very beginning," he said quietly, "about a day after the Twister killed somebody, he'd send me a letter."

The look on Lynne face was priceless, "What?"

"He'd ask if I remembered those sick little games I was forced to play. He'd boast about how he'd make his latest victim suffer before he killed them. But worst of all," Scrawny said through gritted teeth, "he'd write about how he murdered my dad, about how long it took him to die and…" Scrawny stood up and turned his back to the group.

"You've been getting messages from a wanted serial-killer and you never thought to call the cops?" snapped Lynne.

"Like I said," Scrawny turned back to face us, "I don't trust them."

Lynne shot up from her seat, "Look, I'm sorry that your dad's case was screwed up-"

"No," Scrawny interrupted. "Not screwed up. Paid off. Like I said, the deBoks have their hands in some powerful pockets."

Lynne gawped at Scrawny in shock. "N-now wait just a sec!" she flustered. "You can't honestly believe that the cops were paid to look the other way!"

Scrawny clenched his fists, "I know they were!"

"Easy, you two!" I cut in. "We agreed to cooperate, remember?"

Scrawny and Lynne glared at each other, and for a second or two I was afraid that one of them would go for the other's throat. But thankfully, the two of them sat back down on the Courthouse steps, and all was calm once more.

"So basically," Lynne said as calmly as she could manage, "you think that the kid that tormented you all those years ago killed your dad to shut him up, and that he's now the Twister?"

"Pretty much," said Ren.

"All this stuff you're saying about the deBoks," Lynne fiddled anxiously with her pen, "a sadistic kid, pay-offs, cover-ups, murder. They're pretty harsh accusations to be making against such a powerful family."

"Why do you think I'm stuck working for some crappy tabloid?" Scrawny scoffed. "No serious publication will touch a guy like me."

"Okay then," Lynne muttered to herself, "so doing the math that would mean the Twister is about fifteen."

Scrawny shook his head, "What, being a cop don't require a passing grade? The guy's gotta be mid-twenties by now."

"Not with the Temsik fragment," I reminded Scrawny. "Its effect on time will mean that the Twister will not have aged in ten years. Right Lynne?"

"I dunno," Lynner said thoughtfully. "When Cabanela described the Twister, he said the guy was a grown adult. So while I admit the screwy kid Ren was talking about is good candidate, he doesn't fit the full profile."

"Then explain the letters," snapped Scrawny.

"A kid that messed up couldn't have gone unnoticed," Lynne replied. "Nor do they show up in a vacuum. Someone else in deBok family, or at least working for them, the real Twister, might've influenced that kid and encouraged his sadistic behaviour."

"Where is Toon-Face, anyway?" I asked Scrawny. "I haven't seen his spirit anywhere."

"Yeah, 'bout that," Scrawny rubbed the back of his head anxiously. "Mind if I ask ya somethin', puss-in-boots?"

"Go on."

"Is it normal for a ghost to forget stuff?"

"Yes," I told him. "Usually when a ghost awakens for the first time after dying, they can forget who they are completely. When I first met with your father, he hadn't remembered who he was…"

"And he had that funny cartoonish daruma face," Scrawny finished for me. "Yeah, it was an old joke when I was a kid, that dad had a face like a daruma doll. He even dressed up like one for Halloween, once. That's how I was able to recognise him when I found him, even though he didn't look human at the time. He still hasn't got his eyes back though, which is kinda weird. Among other things."

"Like what?"

"He's remembered who he is, and who I am, that's for certain," Scrawny said. "But everything else is missing. Everything we did together, it's gone. And he can't remember dying, who killed him, even what the 'awful truth' he was going on about before he got iced."

"Ten years seems like a long time to be without your memories," I mused. "Although I've never met a ghost in such circumstances, so it is possible. But in my experience, a ghost will recover all of its memories or not at all."

"You don't think," Scrawny had a look of alarm on his face, "'coz it's taken him so long to remember, he's permanently forgot all that stuff?"

"I… don't know."

"I thought you were supposed to be the expert on this life-after-death shit."

"You flatter me, but the Temsik meteor and the Powers of the Dead are shrouded in many layers of mystery. The appearance of the Twister has pretty much thrown me for the loop in regards to what I thought I knew. But once again, where is Toon-Face?"

Scrawny gave a sigh, "He… ran away."

"Ran away?" Lynne and I exclaimed in unison.

"It's crazy," Scrawny fumed, "every time I try and pump to remember stuff, he throws a hissy fit and runs down the phone line. Usually he's home a few hours later and he apologises and everything, but yesterday…"

"What happened?" asked Lynne.

"I decided to take dad on a little 'mystery tour," explained Scrawny. "Take him to places we used to hang when I was a kid, see if I could kick-start the old gray cells, but we were getting nowhere. I even went past the scene of his murder and not a peep outta him. Finally, I went past the main deBok estate. He freaked," Scrawny groaned. "He did that thing with the scratched-up eyes and started screaming like a girl. He took off down the highway and I haven't seen him since." Scrawny stopped as he noticed Lynne roll her eyes, "You two don't seem surprised."

"Well, no offence," I said cautiously, "but when Lynne and I were first introduced to your father, we found him to be, well, uh…"

"He was an ass," Lynne growled.

Scrawny sighed put his hand to his face, "That's another thing. I know I'm a big jerk, but honestly, that only came after dad died. When he was alive, dad was the single most nicest guy you could ever hope to meet, everybody loved him. But now…" Scrawny leaded his head back against one of the huge marble columns holding up the roof, "it's like he's mutated."

"Well, I guess he did spend ten years all alone," I mused, "and without any memories to boot."

"Nobody noticing him, unable to talk to anyone," said Lynne. "I kinda feel sorry for the guy… even with the whole loofah thing."

"Loofah thing?" Scrawny inquired.

"Don't ask," I replied.

Loose & Lanky came hobbling down the step a few minutes later, a smile on his face. "Aaaall done baby," he chirped. "As of now, we are investigating the death of one Kenshin Charivari."

"Great," said Lynne. "So that's that then."

Both she and Loose & Lanky took out business cards and handed them politely to Scrawny.

"Give us a call when your dad decides to come back," said Lynne. "And if you need anything else, of course."

Scrawny looked at the cards he'd just been handed for a second or two, sniffed, and then roughly shoved them into his pocket. He then turned around and trudged down the steps without saying a word.

"You know," Lynne called out irritably, "usually when someone hand you a business card you're supposed to respond in kind."

"You have my number on file, so why bother," Scrawny called back caustically.

Loose & Lanky gave a sigh, "He may be on ooour side, but he really is an ass."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Close Encounter

Since Loose & Lanky's kidnapping, there had been no activity from either the Twister or his blue-skinned allies, and that was putting everybody on edge. I wondered if perhaps Lord Sith had managed to outwit the Twister, take his fragment and run. Part of me hoped that it was true and that the nightmare was over with. But if that were so, there were the unpleasant implications of just what Sith and his cohorts planned to use the fragment for. And then there was the ultimate fate of the Twister's victims. I must've spent many a restless night wondering what became of those souls after they had been devoured, whether they simply disappeared, or if they continued to exist, and what new fate awaited them. I tried not to think about it. I really tried.

Our only hope was for Lynne to follow Scrawny's lead, and that meant a visit to the deBok estate.

"I don't like this," Lynne muttered as she and Loose & Lanky approached the front gate.

"Just play it coooool, baby," said Loose & Lanky reassuringly. "You'll do fiiine."

"These are a powerful group of people," Lynne said nervously. "If I say one thing outta line, we're screwed."

"You've got me and Cabanela on your side," I said to her.

Lynne took a deep breath and pressed the buzzer. There was silence for a moment or two before the intercom began to crackle.

"deBok family estate. May I ask who is speaking? " said the man on the other side of the intercom in a bored, tired tone.

"I'm Detective Lynne, and this is Inspector Cabanela," Lynne replied. "We're from the city police. We were hoping to speak with the head of the household."

"Do you have an appointment, ma'am?"

Lynne and Loose & Lanky looked at each other anxiously – they hadn't been expecting this.

"Well, you see," Lynne replied, "we don't actually have one, but-"

"I'm sorry ma'am, but unless you have a warrant I must ask you to leave."

Lynne groaned.

"Let them in, Martin," came a second voice over the intercom.

"B-but sir!" the first voice stammered. "They don't-!"

"Martin."

There was silence for a second or two, before the first voice gave an awkward cough.

"My apologies, officers," said the first voice. "Please make your way inside once I open the gate. The Master shall greet you shortly."

The gate opened with a mechanical whir, and Lynne and Loose & Lanky tentatively made their way towards the front door. The door opened, and standing there to greet us was the Soft-Spoken Gentleman with a friendly smile.

"I do apologise for the inconvenience, officers," said he. "But when you're in my line of business, you need to be certain about your security."

"Of course," Lynne replied. "May we come inside?"

"Oh yes, how rude of me," the Soft-Spoken Gentleman guided us down the hall. "Do come right this way, please."

We were led to the living room – a large room with wooden floors and furnished with red leather seats. It was opulent by all standards, but compared to the Little Ambassador's garden I found it rather disappointing. The Soft-Spoken Gentleman motioned Lynne and Loose & Lanky to make themselves comfortable.

"Well, it certainly is wonderful to see you again," said the Soft-Spoken Gentleman. "But to what, may I ask, do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?"

"We want to ask a feeeew simple questions," Loose & Lanky told him. "About a certain Kenshin Charivari."

The Gentleman's expression fell and he let out a sigh, "Oh yes, that poor man. And to leave behind a child of such a young age…"

"So, you knew Mister Charivari?" Lynne asked.

"He was my father's accountant," the Gentleman replied sadly. "That is, until he had a falling out with my father and he was forced to terminate Mr Charivari's employment. Of course, no one could've foreseen that he'd take his own life-"

"Actually," Lynne interrupted him, "we now believe he was actually murdered."

The Gentleman sat to attention, a look of surprise on his face. "Murdered?"

"Yes," Lynne replied. "We were hoping to talk to anyone in the family who might've known him, trying to pin down his final movements, whether he had any enemies or financial troubles, stuff like that."

The Gentleman didn't reply, instead choosing to get up from his seat and pace around the room, a troubled look on his face. Finally, he turned back to Lynne and Loose & Lanky. "Detectives," he spoke cautiously, "I know you haven't actually said anything, but am I correct in assuming, perhaps… you believe someone in my family…?"

Lynne gulped nervously, but Loose & Lanky stayed cool.

"We're juuuust eliminating any loose ends," he replied.

"No, no, I understand perfectly," the Gentleman turned his back to us and looked wistfully towards a large portrait of an imposing-looking man, similar in appearance to the Gentleman but obviously much older. "I've always known that my family has held certain… reputation. We've gotten so used to having wealth and power that I'm afraid it went a little to our heads. Especially in my father's time…" He sighed as he turned back to face Lynne and Loose & Lanky, "I wouldn't be at all surprised if Mister Charivari's death was an attempt to silence him."

"So what you're saying is," Lynne said with some trepidation, "you wish to cooperate?"

"Yes," said the Gentleman, "it's time I cleaned out the dirty laundry of this family, gave it a fresh start. I want to right the wrongs of the past."

"Well, thank you," Lynne replied. "If you don't mind we would like to start as soon as possible."

"Of course," the Gentleman agreed. "I will inform my family of the situation."

A few minutes later, about two dozen people, over half of them with that distinctive blue hair. Among them was the Gentleman's fiancée, the Pink Prima-Donna. She shared the same look of contempt written across the faces of most of the other deBok family members. They did not seem at all pleased.

"Prater, what the hell is going on?" groaned the Pink Prima-Donna.

"Just cleaning out the skeletons in the family closet, my dear," the Gentleman replied. "I'm afraid it's been long overdue."

"I hope this is all over quickly," sneered a portly fellow in gold-rimmed spectacles. "I was planning to see a performance of _I Pagliacci _this afternoon!"

"I'm afraid this may take some time, sir," Lynne told him.

"I'm not saying anything without my attorneys present," said a stiff-looking older woman in a classy suit.

"Thaaaat won't be necessary, I assure you," Loose & Lanky told her.

"Of course it's necessary!" snarled the portly bespectacled fellow. "You barge in here uninvited and start asking all these absurd questions! Don't you know who we-?"

"That's quite enough," interpreted the Gentleman. "I'm the head of this household, and you will respect my wishes. And my wish is that you fully cooperate with the officers and answer whatever questions they may ask you. Is that understood?"

Nobody replied, not even the Pink Prima Donna, but it was clear that they were not at all happy with the situation. If the Twister was one of the deBok family, I'd have expected that he'd be squirming right about now. He knew about the powers of the dead, and he knew that we knew about them. But as scanned the deBoks, I came across the same problem I had encountered back at the embassy. Beyond all logic, there was still no sign of Temsik radiation. Were we wasting our time in coming here? That was the logical conclusion, to be sure, but I had the strangest feeling that this was not the case. Why, I don't know. But I had the feeling that we were on the right track, one way or another.

"I do understand that the situation is uncomfortable, to say the very least," the Gentleman continued. "So in a show of good faith, I would like to volunteer myself to be the first to be questioned. Officers?"

"Well, ok then," Lynne chewed nervously on a fingernail. "First off, Mister deBok, I'm sorry to ask you this, but how old would you be, exactly?"

The Gentleman looked a little embarrassed.

Lynne sighed, "I know it's a personal question, but-"

"Twenty-six," said the Gentleman. "Please excuse me for not answering straight away, Detective. I wasn't exactly expecting that."

"So," said Lynne, "you'd have been about sixteen when Kenshin Charivari was killed, right?"

"Yes. Oh, I have photographs if you're interested," the Gentleman took a large leather-bound book from the table and flicked through the pages. "Here."

The book was a album of family photographs, with the open page being a portrait of a younger, adolescent Soft-Spoken Gentleman together with the older wan in the portrait on the wall.

"My father and I," the Gentleman explained. "He passed away last year, sadly."

"Iiiif you wouldn't mind," said Loose & Lanky, "would it be okay if we could get copies of the photographs in this album, as well as any others you might have of the family?"

"Prater," the stiff and classy woman stepped in. "You're not seriously-? Why would they even want-?"

"It's not up to me to decide what will help the police in their investigations," the Gentleman replied curtly. "But I will assist with whatever means necessary, and I insist that you show them the same courtesy."

At this, the Pink Prima-Donna threw back her head and let out a cackle. "That's rich! The cops may have fallen for your ass-kissing, but we sure ain't!"

The Gentleman suddenly looked nervous, "Tarpeia, please…"

"What are you talking about?" Lynne asked.

"Nothing that you need to be concerned about, detective," said the Gentleman hurriedly.

"Bullshit!" sneered the Prima-Dona. "Anyone here noticed that psycho bro of yours ain't shown up yet?"

There were murmurs of agreement from the other members of the deBok family. The Gentleman bit his lip, his posture stiffened.

"Psycho bro?" Loose & Lanky inquired.

The Gentleman rounded on his fiancée, his face showing signs of panic, "You know that Hod is in no shape to-!"

"Well, he's in good enough shape to go out every night and work on that sick little collection of his!"

"Tarpeia!"

"Hey, hey, take it easy!" Lynne said, trying to calm the two down.

"Mind your own business, you bitch!" the Pink Prima Dona howled as she made a grab for Lynne's hair.

Lynne gave a yelp as the Prima Donna yanked hard at her ponytail. Loose & Lanky tried to rush over to pull Lynne free, but he forgot about his missing foot and ended up sprawled on the floor. He was helped back up by one of the household staff while the Soft-Spoken Gentlemen pried his fiancée off from Lynne.

"Lynne!" I called to her. "Lynne, are you alright?"

"I'm fine; I just can't believe the gall of that-! Ugh!" Lynne's teeth were gritted in frustration.

"Lynne baby!" Loose & Lanky struggled to rebalance himself on his crutch. "You alriiiight?"

"The boys back at the precinct better not hear about this, or I'll never live it down…" Lynne replied, and then turned to the Prima-Dona. "And you consider yourself lucky I don't charge you with assault!"

The Prima-Dona responded by spitting on Lynne's badge.

I could see the vain on Lynne's forehead was bulging dangerously, but she took a deep breath and turned to the Gentleman, "May we speak with… Hod, was it? Your brother?"

"Step-brother," the Gentleman replied. "My father's son from a previous marriage. But I'm afraid I can't allow it. He's in extremely poor health and shouldn't be disturbed, and I doubt he would be of much use to your investigation."

"Bullshit," muttered the Prima-Donna.

"Lynne, none of these people is the Twister," I told her. "We have to check out that missing brother!"

"We can't," Lynne replied, "Prater doesn't want us to bother him."

"If I could just get a quick peek," I insisted, "see if he has Temsik radiation!"

"Sissel, this place is huge. You could be looking for him for hours!"

"So I'll come back home over the phone once I'm done."

"You're gonna stay here? In the possible home of a soul-eating sociopath?"

"Trust me."

Lynne thought it over for a moment. "Okay," she said finally, "one quick peek, then you get outta here."

"Right. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't."

I jumped through the furniture as Lynne and Loose & Lanky went back to questioning the deBoks as best they could. Lynne was right – the deBokl home was huge, much bigger than my own home, with numerous rooms all opulently furnished. Apart from a few of the staff, none of whom gave off the Temsik's otherworldly glow, the house was relatively devoid of human activity .I'm not sure how long I spent looking for the Soft-Spoken Gentleman's Brother, but as I did I thought a little about this strange family as I drifted through their home. Aside from their patriarch, the Soft-Spoken Gentlemen, they had to be the most disagreeable bunch of people I'd ever come across, almost on the same level as Toon-Face…

My train of thought was broken when I noticed a strange, blue glow – Temsik radiation! It was weak, but it was there, leaking from a room at the end of a darkened hall. It looked rather neglected, as if whatever – or whoever – was in that room had been put there in order to be forgotten. I could hear someone talking, a man's voice, and the only voice I could hear. Was he talking to himself?

"Well what is this that I can't see, with ice cold hands takin' hold of me…When the Gods are gone and the Devil takes hold, who will have mercy on your soul…"

I was nervous, of course. If I messed up, I would certainly be caught and there was no predicting what mood the Twister would be in. But there was only one way for me to know the truth. I mustered my nerve and slid through the door.

The room was cold and bare, very much unlike the other more luxurious rooms I had encountered. I could see the Temsik radiation coming from the far corner of the room. There wasn't anything for me to posses so I couldn't get any closer, not that I wanted to. Instead, I simply altered my field of vision – another Power of the Dead that I didn't use too often – and saw a figure sitting on a bed in the far corner. It was a man, pale and thin, rocking back and forth on the bed, holding something in his hands that I couldn't quite see. His hair was the same shade of violet-blue as most of the family members, but it was unkempt and messy, falling over his gaunt, hollow face. His clothes were shabby compared to those of his relatives, a faded white sweater with the arms too long and a faded pair of jeans. But most important of all was the blue waves of light radiating from his body. This had to be it! This man had to be the Twister!

With that sorted out, I went to turn back and report to Lynne. But then I noticed just what the Twister was holding in his hand…

A dead, coreless sparrow.

"Well I am Death," he sang softly, stroking the dead bird, "none can excel, I'll open the door to Heaven or Hell… Oh death, someone would pray, would you wait to call on me another day…"

A clock chimed somewhere in the house. The Twister looked up from the bird, his face void of any emotion. He got off the bed and knelt down on the floor, slid a hand underneath the bed and pulled out a box. He opened the box and began sifting through its contents – a collection of dead, rotting reptiles, all without cores.

"Not that one," he muttered, and he shut the box and slid it back under the bed, the sparrow's corpse still in his hands. He pulled out another box and looked through the coreless cadavers of mice and rats. "Wrong again," said the Twister, sliding it back underneath and pulling out a third box. This time, he gave a slight smile as he went lifted the lid and checked inside. More dead birds – crows, pigeons, sparrows, swallows, a falcon or two, all coreless and putrid. He took out the birds to inspect them, stroking them and whispering to them. Finally, he replaced the birds back in their box, and took the little sparrow, placing it gently inside the box with them.

"And now I lay me down to sleep," he muttered, "pray the Gods my soul to keep." He got back on the bed, laying down as if to rest, "And if I die before I wake, pray the Gods my soul to take…"

I had seen enough. Clearly this man, the Twister, was all and out bonkers. I had seen it already at the murder scenes, at the market and with Loose & Lanky's hostage crisis, but this was… well, I just wanted to get the hell out of there!

I turned to head out the door, and nearly ran into a slimy, writhing lump of a soul. I would've jumped out of my skin if I've had my body with me. How did he get behind me, with barely anything in this room?

I had no time to time about this, as the Twister's soul reached out one of its hideous black tentacles towards me. I had nowhere to run, I was certain I was done for. But instead, I was whisked into the World of the Dead, and found myself, for the first time, talking with the Twister directly. Strangely, his face was not the human face I had seen just now, but his mask, or a variation of it, anyway. The burlap sacking had transformed into a scaly skin, and the zipper mouth was a set of razor-sharp iron teeth.

There was a tense silence for a moment or two.

Finally the Twister spoke, but to my alarm he was not in his usual playful mood. "What is this?" he said in a demanding tone. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Well, I uh…" I stammered. "I'm, uh…"

The mouth of teeth stretched open threateningly, and a long, oily tongue lashed out. "You mean to tell me that all this time I've been matching wits with A FUCKING CAT?" he roared.

Before I could reply, his long dreadlocks flew out and wrapped themselves around me. One strand wrapped itself around my neck, squeezing tightly. It was the most horrible feeling, the strands were cold and clammy, and if I hadn't known any better I would say that I was truly being strangulated and was gasping just to breathe, because that's just what it felt like. With horror I realised that the Twister was done playing games and was planning on outright devouring me.

"N-no!" I cried out in panic. "If you eat me, y-you'll never find him!"

Thankfully, the Twister loosed his grip enough for me to 'breathe', but not enough for me to actually be free. "Find who?" he asked.

I felt the guilt, the revulsion surge up inside of me. I couldn't believe I was doing this, but I had to buy time, to get back to Lynne and the others. "K-Kenshin Charivari," I replied weakly. "He's the one you want… right?"

There were a few horrible moments of silence as the Twister kept his grip on me. Then, he threw back his head and began to laugh.

"Kenshin Charivari!" he barked. "You mean to tell me-? Oh, that's a gas! Hahahaha HA!"

The Twister's sudden change of mood did not comfort me in the least. His reaction at the mention of Toon-Face's name seemed off somehow, as if he hadn't quite expected it.

"Hahaha… fine then, you can get lost," the Twister chuckled as he let me loose. "I suppose you'll be reporting back to the piggies now you've got a good squiz of that meatbag on the bed."

I was back in the world of the living, and to my relief the Twister's vile ghost backed out the door, unblocking my path. I wasted no time in getting out of that room and as far away from the Twister as I possibly could.

"Oh, and one more thing," the Twister called out after me as I fled down the hall, "do remember say hello to 'Mister Charivari' for me next time you see him, hmm?"

I didn't bother with a reply as I jumped into the nearest phone and made a beeline for home.

The Good Detective called Lynne to let her know I was alright. Well, I can't really say I was completely alright; I was so shaken by my latest encounter with the Twister that I insisted on sleeping on the end of the Little Lady's instead of my basket. I just wanted to be near someone I knew and trusted, somewhere safe. Making things worse was the guilt – selling out Toon-Face, running like a coward from the house without letting Lynne know I was alright. Suddenly I could see why Toon-Face was so eager to keep quiet.

I half-expected Lynne to be mad with me when I pooped down the phone line to visit her the next day, but as it turned out she had been expecting the same reaction from me.

"Sorry I left you at the haunted mansion," she said. "But once we finished up with the questioning, we couldn't stick around."

"Was I really searching that long?" I asked.

"Yeah, you missed all the fun," Lynne replied. "I caught one guy with a stash of unmarked diamonds, so he tried to bribe me. Well, I told him he could go to hell, so then his wife tried to butter up Cabanela, if you know what I mean. Too bad for them, he doesn't roll that way. We had to arrest them both."

"Geez, what a bunch! Why do you think they're all like that, anyway?"

"Too much money and too much power," Lynne sighed. "They're too used to having everything their way."

"Well, hopefully with that Prater fellow in charge," said I, "that may change."

"Hmm, I dunno," Lynne said doubtfully. "He's marrying that psycho chick, so you have to wonder. But we're getting off track here. Did you find Hod?"

I told Lynne that I had, and of my encounter with the Twister. She grimaced as I recounted the episode of the collection of dead, coreless animals hidden under the bed, and I she was quite alarmed when I told her how close I came to never coming back.

"He grabbed you?" Lynne gasped. "How did you escape?"

"I didn't really," I said awkwardly. "He let me go because… because…"

"Why?" Lynne asked nervously.

I gulped, "Because promised him Toon-Face."

Lynne's eyes grew wide, "You did what?"

"I know, I know! But I didn't know what else to do!"

Lynne shook her head, "Hey, I can't say I blame you, little buddy. I would've sold out my own dear mother to get away from that creep!"

"I can still feel those tentacles of his – ugh!" I shuddered. "But at least now we know for certain that the Twister is Hod."

"Yeah, true. He's not at all how I pictured him, though."

"Oh? How so?"

"Well," Lynne said thoughtfully, "from the Twister's behaviour so far, we can gather he's very intelligent. He'd fit in to normal society, look and act just like a normal person. No-one close to him would ever have any clue that he's a complete psycho who kills people for giggles. Hod is most definitely unhinged, and perhaps even potentially dangerous, but not in the same way the Twister is."

"But I saw the radiation!" I protested. "No one else in that house had it!"

Lynne was silent for a moment as she gave the matter some thought. "Then he could be faking it," she said. "Everyone thinks he's a harmless idiot and no one ever imagines that he has the cunning and foresight to pull off such audacious murders. And if he does get arrested, he could always go for the insanity plea. But this is only conjecture," Lynne shifted in her seat, "the only way to know for sure is to put a tail on Hod deBok, have someone watch the house and hopefully try and catch him in the act." She sighed, "But with all this freaky supernatural stuff going on I'm not at all sure how we're gonna take him down."

"We'd have to remove his Temsik fragment," I explained. "Then I'll be able to go back to before his death and make it that all of this never happened. Of course, it isn't that simple…"

"You'd have to get in the Twister's body without being eaten," said Lynne. "Yeesh, it's like that old story of the mice who wanted to bell the cat!"

"Well, I did promise him Toon-Face," I said, "so perhaps we could use him as bait to lure the Twister out from his body, but…"

"A, Toon-Face is missing, and b, neither him nor Rennie are gonna like that idea very much," Lynne finished, giving a shrug. "Not that I have any better ideas, though. Mind if I take a break? I could do with a coffee."

"Sure."

I broke the connection and we returned to the World of the Living, but Lynne never did get her coffee. The phone rang, and of course Lynne had to answer it.

"Lynne speaking? Oh, good afternoon Chief, how are yo-? What?"

Uh-oh. That didn't sound good.

"Dear Gods. I'll be there right away, sir!" Lynne slammed down the phone and went for her coat. "Sissel, you still there?"

"I'm here," I told her. "What's wrong?"

"Someone tried to steal the Temsik meteor again," she explained. "but it's worse this time – the guy's got a gun, and he's taken the Professor hostage!"


	13. Chapter 13

Elise Bottle

**GT Twisted Fates 13**

17

Chapter 13: Hot Date

It seemed strange that the Blue Assassins would try to steal the Temsik meteorite and risk the Twister's wrath. But then, who else knew about the fragments, and had anything to gain from acquiring them? I was about to find out.

The Bereted Investigator met Lynne as she walked into the foyer. "This guy game in around mid-afternoon," he explained as he led her to the containment room, "I thought there was something funny about him, he seemed really on edge. He really, really wanted to see Jowd."

"What happened when you told him Jowd wasn't in?" Lynne asked.

"He didn't like it, that's for sure," replied the Bereted Investigator. "The way his face fell, you'd have thought I'd just handed him a death sentence! I asked him if I could help him but he said no, so he went to leave, or so I thought." He shook his head, "Next thing I know, the alarm's gone off so we rushed to the labs, and there's the same guy, a switchblade to the Professor's throat and he's spitting chips. They're both holed up in there, and the suspect's demanding we get Jowd here, now, or that he's allowed to leave with whatever the hell it is they're keeping in the Professor's special lab."

"I see," Lynne said grimly. "Have we got an ID on the suspect?"

"Memry's working on that right now…"

"Guys, guys!" the Freckle-Faced Cutie came rushing up to us waving a piece of paper, "You're not gonna believe it, but it's the same psycho who snatched Lynne when she was a kid!"

Lynne blinked stupidly, "The guy who snatched me? What about him?"

"Duh!" the Freckle-Faced Cutie slapped her forehead, "He's the one who's got the Doc! The guy who held you hostage ten years ago is the same guy wanting to see Jowd right now!"

"WHAT?" I don't know who cried that out the loudest, Lynne or me.

"Let me handle this!" I told Lynne as I leapt from her badge and towards the room. "I'll talk some sense into that idiot!"

"Wait, Sis, I – whaddya mean, talk to him?"

"He has core from the last time," I lied. "Just try and stall the others for me if you can, please!"

Inside the room, I could see the Professor crouched on the floor, his hands tied behind his back, but he seemed fairly mellow. On the other side of the room, there he was in his unmistakable red suit, pacing back and forth, wringing his hands, a bandage wrapped around his left arm, his face creased with worry.

"You can still get out of this, you know," said the Professor calmly.

"Please," Yomiel hissed, "just shut up."

"All you have to do is go out there with hands up and—"

"Please, just SHUT UP!" Yomiel rounded on the Professor furiously. "I don't want to do this but I've got no fucking choice, so shut the fuck up!"

"If you ask me you have plenty of better choices," I snarled as I jumped into his core.

"Sissel? Thank Gods!" Yomiel seemed relieved. "Am I glad to see you."

"Well, if I had my body you wouldn't be!" I replied. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Yomiel bit his lip. "You've probably guessed by now," he said, "but I came here to steal part of the meteorite."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, "But why? Yomiel, I thought you hated what the meteorite did to you?"

"I do," Yomiel said bitterly, "and if I had the choice I certainly wouldn't be here. But," I could hear the despair in his voice, "if I don't, they'll kill her!"

"Kill her?" I inquired, "You mean your wife?"

Yomiel nodded, "Since we last met up, Sissel had been committed at the hospital, but when I went to visit her the other day the guy at the desk told me she'd left."

"She wasn't arrested?"

"They decided that Sissel wasn't sound of mind when she lit the fire, so the judge said that if she spent time in hospital they wouldn't send her to jail," he explained. "But she wasn't supposed to leave the hospital until the doctors decided she was ok."

"What has this got to do with the Temsik meteorite?"

"I'm getting to that," said Yomiel. "I thought she might've gone home, and the front door was open when I got there. But when I got inside, the place was turned upside down! And, and…" he put his hands on his head, digging in his fingers, "She wasn't there, but this… this other guy was. Some freak in a mask."

My ears pricked up at that last word, "Did you say he was wearing a mask?"

"He said she was his 'special guest'," Yomiel choked. "The guy he, he said I had to get the meteorite or I was never gonna see her again. I told him I had no idea what he was crapping on about, that he was off his nut. He took a knife from the kitchen and he grabbed my arm and, well, I'm guessing you saw the bandage."

"Yes," I said grimly, "I'm guessing he then demonstrated said knife on himself?"

Yomiel was taken aback, "Y-yeah… guy cut open his own throat…"

"But he didn't die?"

His gaze fell to the floor, his body slumped, "You know who this guy is, don't you?"

I didn't know what to say. Should I tell Yomiel the truth, and risk upsetting him further? I hated to admit it, but it seemed that ever since the Twister had shown up, I was doing nothing but lie to my friends. Sure, it had been clean and practical in the beginning, but now I seemed to be getting myself into one mess after another.

"Yes, I've encountered him," I said finally. "I'm guessing he's the one who forced you into this?"

"Yeah, he said that was the only way I was gonna get Sissel back, alive and in one piece. I couldn't ask the cops for help coz the guy said he had eyes on me, so I thought if I could talk to you and Jowd…"

"But Jowd wasn't here," I finished. "Asking for Jowd was already a risk, and you weren't about to risk Sissel's life on a detour."

"So I decided to bite the bullet and just steal the damn rock," Yomiel continued. "The creep gave me the directions, and hacking the security was a cinch for me. Then the Professor showed up and I panicked." He placed his head in his hands, "I don't understand. I thought once I got rid of that damn rock my life would get back to normal."

"This isn't your fault," I told him. "What happened back then has nothing to with you or what happened in the past."

Yomiel didn't reply, but continued to stare at the floor.

"I should go," I said finally. "I'll tell Lynne what's happened so we can decide our next move together. But you have to let the Professor go, understand?"

"O-of course. I'm so sorry," Yomiel said, "I never wanted this shit – I just want Sissel back, I want her safe."

"We'll do what we can," I replied. "I won't let her die."

"I know."

As I left the room, I felt that horrible guilt well up inside me once again – thanks to the Twister's powers, there was no way I could guarantee the Fiancée's safety. Lies, lies, lies! Everything that came out of my mouth these days was one string of lies! I made myself a promise then and there – once this was all over, if I still had line of communication with Lynne, I was going tell her the whole truth of that Fateful Night. But first, we had to deal with the Twister.

I told Lynne what had transpired between Yomiel and I, and she reacted with the appropriate frustration.

"That sick freak," she growled, "he could come up with a gajillion ways to get in here, but he picks the one that most screws everyone around. What's with this psycho?"

"We can't waste time on that now," I replied. "The plan is for you to offer yourself in exchange for the Professor, and from there we can discuss what to do next."

"Ok, gotcha."

I disconnected with Lynne's core and she turned to her co-workers.

"I have an idea," she told them, "I'm gonna offer myself as a hostage in exchange for the Professor."

"What? Are you nuts?" the Bereted Investigator exclaimed. "You're willing to hand yourself over to that nut-job?"

"I might be able to negotiate with him," Lynne replied, "just trust me."

There was silence amongst Lynne's co-workers, but none of them raised any objections.

"Alright then," Lynne went to the containment room door and gave a quick knock, "Yomiel? I have a proposal for you. I'll come in there and talk to you in person, but you gotta let the Professor out, ok?"

The door slid open, and the Professor was rather unceremoniously shoved out of the room. The Freckle-Faced Cutie and the Bereted Investigator grabbed him and pulled him into the hallway and Lynne rushed past him through the door.

"That went surprisingly well," the Cutie mused.

Lynne and I were now in the room. Yomiel was waiting for us, chewing nervously on a thumbnail.

"Sissel talk to you?" he asked.

"Yeah" replied Lynne. "So, what did that scumbag want?"

Yomiel was hesitant, tightly gripping the metal suitcase as he leaned out of the side of the van, looking towards the warehouses, "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Hey, you stole a police-issue gun and broke out of interrogation," quipped the Freckled Cutie, "this should be a cinch for you."

"That's not helpful, Memry," the Bereted Detective growled. He turned to Yomiel, "Look, you've got that wire on you – if you think things are getting out of hand, just say the code word and we'll storm the place and start busting heads, ok?"

"Y-yeah, sure."

"Now just to be clear," he looked Yomiel right in the eye, "what's the safe word we agreed on?"

"Objection?"

"Great! Stick to the script, and you and the missus will be cuddling together in no time," said the Freckled Cutie.

Yomiel took a deep breath as he stepped out of the van and into the street. He whispered to me, "You there, Sissel?"

"Yeah, I'm here," I replied from the suitcase. "I'll head in and scope the place out, if she's in there I'll get her out."

"Thanks. I know I can count on you."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, old friend."

I slid out of the suitcase and into the nearby street litter, slinking into the foggy night. I recognised this place – the warehouse docks where I had first encountered the Twister and discovered his ghastly power. The Twister had instructed Yomiel to make the drop-off in a warehouse far on the other side of the docks. It was highly unlikely that the Fiancée was being held in the same location, but it was a good a place as any to look for clues.

I soon arrived at the warehouse, and already there was a problem – Beauty. She was there by a crate on which sat a telephone. 'One Step Ahead' Tengo was also there, but he wasn't the one I was worried about. It was Beauty's 'sixth sense' that scared me, since she could easily find the wire hidden on Yomiel, although I had warned him of that possibility. He would have to deal with her on his own. My job was to find the Fiancée, report back to Lynne, and help the Fiancée escape to safety, if possible, before Yomiel was found out. If I messed up this one, it was all over.

Once again I messed up Tengo's gun just to be on the safe side, and then I snaked over to the telephone up on the crate. Beauty was tense, gripping her whip with both hands, bending it up and down, her teeth gritted.

"This is stupid," muttered Tengo. "He snatches some random broad on a whim and expects her old man get the job done?"

"He's fooling around again," snarled Beauty. "That bastard, he's just using us in this stupid game of his. Gods, how long is he gonna keep screwing around with us like this?"

"For as long as Sith indulges him," Tengo replied. He gave the crate the swift kick, causing the phone to jump and giving me quite a jolt. "Dammit, that bastard! He's not the one out here bustin' his arse, the overdressed turkey!"

Beauty rounded on him threateningly, "Watch your tongue, Tengo! Lord Sith is highly experienced in his field of command and more than worthy of our respect."

Tengo bit his lip and gulped nervously, "I-I was just sayin'…"

"Sith has plans to deal with our friend the Twister once we're done here," said Beauty haughtily. "He probably won't be quite as jovial once we play our little joke on him."

Well, I'd certainly be happy for the Blue Assassins to be rid of the Twister for me, but if he was trapped on the sea floor then it would be very difficult to undo the deaths he had caused. But I wondered if the Twister be so easy to outwit as Yomiel had been. In terms of manipulative cunning, the Twister seemed to be much more of an even match for Lord Sith.

This train of thought was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. I was ready as Beauty snatched up the receiver, "What?"

"Hello, Beauty my darling," Dandy's voice came over the phone. "Are you doing well over there?"

Beauty gritted her teeth and massaged her temples with her free hand, "Dammit you idiot, stop calling! The plan was for ME to call YOU when the stooge arrives with the loot!"

"I know, my dearest, but I just wanted to-"

"Just make sure old sack-head doesn't get carried away with our guest – I don't want to have to clean up what's left of her!"

I guessed that sack-head would be the Twister, and the 'guest' had to be the Fiancée. I didn't waste any time, jumping down the phone line towards where Dandy was calling from. I took a quick look around to see where I was – it was dark but I could make out the lush green trees, the sound of running water, the enclosures housing the various snakes and spiders – the Little Ambassador's office.

"Of course my darling Beauty," Dandy finished saying, "I'll make sure that Mister Twister is the perfect gentleman to our lady friend." He grimaced as he hung up the phone, "Easier said than done, though."

I followed him as he headed towards the middle of the room, towards the depression with the seats and coffee table. Sprawled across one of the seats was the Twister, with a smug air about him. Seated across the table from him, hands bound behind her back, a gag stuffed into her mouth and her face stained with tears was the Fiancée.

"Comfortable?" the Twister sneered, "I've gone to so much trouble just to make tonight special for the two of us."

The Fiancée choked back her sobs.

The Twister leaned forward towards her, "Bet you haven't had a night like this in a while," he said to her, "bet that lowlife punk husband of yours couldn't – "

"Um, Mr. Twister?" Dandy interjected.

The Twister let out a groan and slouched back into his seat, "Can't you see I'm entertaining here?"

"Um, yes, well you see, I was just told to remind you not to get too entertaining…"

The Twister was quiet for a moment, before reaching into his coat and pulling out his bloodstained scalpel. "You saying I don't know how to treat a lady?"

Dandy gulped nervously, "I'm just saying… it's usually very difficult having to clean up after you…"

"You needn't worry so much," the Twister replied. "Tonight is different. I'm entertaining a lady and I intend to be a perfect gentleman to her. Isn't that right, my dear?" He leaned forward back towards the Fiancée, grabbing her by the chin in his gloved hand. The Fiancée choked back another sob and tried to pull away, shutting her eyes tight.

Dandy looked ill, "I-I'll just go wait the phone," he muttered as he walked away.

Knowing where the Fiancée was being held was only part of the plan. I shot back down the phone, to the police station this time, where Lynne was waiting for my signal.

I wasted no time, jumping straight into her core, and explained the situation to her. Naturally Lynne was not pleased to hear that the Twister was personally guarding the Fiancée, but she was even more concerned when I told them where the Fiancée was actually being kept.

"At the embassy?" Lynne hung her head, "Oh no…"

"What's wrong?"

"Remember that whole diplomatic immunity thing I was telling you about?" Lynne replied. "I can't go near the place unless I have a damn good reason. The sonnava bitch, he's picked the one place he's knows we can't touch." She thought for a bit, "Maybe if I phoned through and said they're been a bomb thre – no, the Twister might suspect something and just kill her…"

"What if you waited outside, and I brought her to you?"

"Can you do that?"

"Well, it'd certainly be a challenge. I'd have to distract the Twister, get him away from Sissel, and then sneak her past whoever else happens to be there. But once we do that, you just have to grab her and take her to safety, right?"

"Are you sure you want to be so close to the Twister for all that time?"

"Well, I've really got no choice now, do I?"

Lynne sighed, "I gotta hand it to you Sissel, you're brave. If you were human and alive, you'd make a pretty good cop."

"Thanks," said I. "It'll take me a while to sneak the other Sissel outside, so that should give you plenty of time to get to the embassy. I'll see you there."

"Right. But Sissel, please, be careful!"

Back through the phone lines, back to the Twister and the Fiancée. They were still both there, the Fiancé still tied up and sobbing, while the Twister's attention was on a large covered dish on the coffee table.

"I suppose we should have something to eat first," he said, reaching out to the dish. "Let's see what's on tonight's menu, shall we?"

He lifted the lid of the dish and the Fiancée let out a muffled scream. Inside the dish wasn't a fancy meal, but a cage full of live rats. So many of the poor creatures were crammed inside that they crawling on top of one another, appearing to be one writhing, giant mass of fur.

The Twister opened the door at the top of the cage, reached in his hand and pulled out one of the rats by its tail. He dangled the struggling animal right in front of the Fiancée's face, causing her to let out another muffled scream and try and turn away.

"Not hungry?" he smirked. "Well then, maybe we should get just right to the good part." He took his free hand and slowly slid it up the Fiancée's skirt, causing her to shudder in revulsion.

My mind was racing – how the hell was I supposed get the Fiancée to safety with the Twister watching her like a hawk? I tried to keep calm and continued to watch the scene unfold, looking for any chance I had. Should I just go and get Lynne's help?

The Fiancée pulled away from the Twister, trying to inch herself as far away from him as possible. The Twister just chuckled at this.

"Aw, c'mon babe, make up your mind!" He opened the zipper on his mask. "Ah, suit yourself. I'll go ahead and tuck in."

All this time the Twister still had the poor rat by the tail. Now, he grabbed the creature and took it up to his mouth. Then, while the rat was still alive and moving, he bit off the creature's head.

The Fiancée gave another muffled scream and squeezed her eyes shut. I heard retching from the back of the room – Dandy had seen the whole thing and rushed out at full sprint. I'd thought that by now nothing the Twister did could surprise me, but I was certain that if I had my body at that point I would've been sick. I had to get the Fiancée out of there, now!

I looked around the room, wondering that maybe if I let the animals out of their cages… but would that really be enough to distract him? If anything, it might only serve to give me away, and I wasn't interested in becoming dessert. But then again, I could hide myself well enough. It would be risky, but it was one I had to take. I snuck my way towards the terrariums, and quickly found the locks to the doors.

I was just about to open them, but then a dreadful thought crossed my mind. I could see the Twister chasing after the loosed animals, slaughtering them and devouring their souls at his leisure. Was it really fair, using these creatures to serve my own ends? Argh, what was I doing?! This wasn't a time to have second thoughts. Besides, once I could get to the Twister's core, I could make it as though all of these deaths had never happened... right?

"Psst!"

I gave a start, and looked around. Did I just imagine that noise? Focus, Sissel, the strain's getting to you.

"Psst, fleabag!"

Ok, I wasn't imagining that. I looked around frantically, "Who's there? Where are you?"

"Over here, you stupid fleabag!"

I looked towards the origin of the voice, in the terrarium above me. Sure enough, hiding in the decorative rocks was a little spirit flame, mostly hidden from view but occasionally exposing itself before zipping back into invisibility.

"Charivari? Is that… is that you?"

"Of course it? Who else would it be, the tooth fairy?"

"But… what are you doing here?"

"Never mind that now!" he snarled quietly. "We gotta get outta here before that freaky monster finds and eats us!"

"Yeah, well, you go on ahead," I looked towards the table where the Twister was still 'entertaining' the Fiancée. "I can't really do that right now. I've got to figure out a way to get the Twister away from that woman and then sneak her out of here."

"What?" Toon-Face huffed incredulously. "Oh, forget her, she's history, pal. He's gonna eat her for dinner and have her for desert, if you get my drift."

"Not if I can help it. I think I've got a plan here."

"You dumb hairball, what's that's hussie to you, anyway?"

"She happens to be the wife of a friend," I replied, "but even so it wouldn't matter – you don't just abandon a person to die like that."

"Isn't loyalty supposed to be a dog thing?" Toon-Face flustered.

"What do you care, anyway?" I hissed, "You've never shown any interest in helping anyone but yourself before, why are so suddenly so worried about me now?"

"Well, I," Toon-Face stammered, "It's just that – uh…"

"If you really want to be useful for a change, go home. Let your son know you're okay, he's been worried sick about you."

Our conversation was distracted when the double doors at the other end of the room burst open, and the Little Ambassador stormed in, followed closely by Limbo and the Bear, with Dandy hanging back to the rear. The Ambassador stormed over to the Twister, his gentle, calm expression gone, replaced with one of fury barely being restrained.

"Mister Twister!" he fumed. "I thought I made it perfectly clear that you were under no circumstances to at all tamper with the animals under my care!"

The Twister rolled his eyes, turning to face the Ambassador and replied in a bored drawl, "I thought you grew these little disease-carriers as snacks and I was feeling a bit peckish."

"Why – you sick creep!"

"Who are you calling a creep?" the Twister took the mouse's decapitated body and began to stroke it. "You feed these poor, innocent little creatures to your slimy, scaly little pets while they're still alive."

"How dare you!" the Ambassador raged. "You know very well that these animals don't know any better, they won't go after dead prey!"

The Little Ambassador's words got me thinking. Before I had been exposed to the Temsik radiation, both in this timeline and the original, I had been an ordinary cat who would have thought nothing of killing a defenceless creature for my own benefit. It was simply because the thought that other creatures could suffer and feel pain had never crossed my mind. Besides, I did what it took to survive. But now, I didn't need to kill to eat. I had caused the deaths of Jeego and Tengo in the previous timeline, of course, but they'd had intended to harm innocent people. I'd harassed a few unfortunate rats, but once again that was out of need, and those creatures had suffered no lasting damage. Even Yomiel, in the course of his sins, had only deluded himself that he took pleasure from his crimes and was simply trying to put an end to his own pain. We knew better, and so did the Twister. The difference was that he didn't care. But I did, and brought me back to the issue of the terrariums...

Focus, Sissel! Just open the stupid door!

I couldn't do it. No matter how many times I went over it in my head, I couldn't justify making these creatures suffer. How was their life any less valuable than the Fiancée's? How about the other humans that the Twister had killed?

Great, just great – beaten by my own nagging conscience. I turned my attention back to the Fiancée, who was clearly relieved that the Twister had turned his attentions from her so he could rile up the Little Ambassador. I just had to wait for my chance to get her out of here, that is, if she could last that long.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" the Twister was gloating. "It's your job to make me comfortable if you want the Temsik meteorite."

"Screw it!" snarled the Little Ambassador. "As far as I'm concerned, you can go to hell and take that that stupid rock with you!"

The Twister threw back his head in a cackle, "Oh, I'm sure your bosses back home are going to love that…"

The Little Ambassador clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, and Limbo stepped forward, gripping him gently by the shoulders.

"Little sir," he said gently. "Forget him. He is not worth it."

"Heh-heh-heh, listen to your nursemaid, kiddo," the Twister sneered. "You don't wanna hurt yoursel-"

The Twister's gloating was interrupted by a loud fizzing and crackling, the lights started to flicker, and then the lights, the fountain, everything, shut down. Everyone sat in stunned silence for a second or two, before the Little Ambassador grabbed the phone and started shouting into the speaker.

"What happened?" he said frantically. "Who cut the power?"

I was too stunned to move as the Little Ambassador listened to whoever was on the other end of the phone line before replacing it in the receiver, "He's says the fuse box just exploded. Power's out in the whole building."

The Twister growled and got to his feet, "Someone's here!"

"You bet you dear sweet ass, I'm here!" came a gruff, contrary voice, seemingly from nowhere.

The Twister looked around frantically for a couple of seconds, just as the serving tray suddenly took off and crashed into the wall on the other side of the room. Everyone stared in stunned silence at this strange event, and even I had to wonder what the hell was going on.

The voice rang out across the room, "Well c'mon, you shit-faced dick-for-brains! You want me? Come and get me!"

The Twister's eyes lit up like fire, and his mouth, still visible through the open zipper in his mask, contorted into a hideous snarl, "So you finally grew some balls and decided to show up, old man?"

The Little Ambassador blinked stupidly, "What's going on? Who are you talking to?"

"None of your damn business!" the Twister shot back. "I'll be gone a while. Don't try anything funny with my carcass while I'm gone!"

The Twister's soul leapt out of his body, leaving his body to crumple to the floor, as everyone else backed off in shock. I saw Toon-Face's flame scoot off down the hall, with the Twister's slimy soul in hot pursuit. I couldn't believe what I was seeing – had Toon-Face lost it? Well, that didn't matter. Toon-Face had gotten the Twister out of the way for me, and had provided the cover of darkness, which meant I had a chance to get the Fiancée out of here!

Since the Fiancée had a core, I thought I might as well make use of it and direct the Fiancée to safety.

"Hello?" I called to her as I leapt in. "You're Sissel, right?"

The Fiancée jerked slightly as she reacted to my thoughts echoing in her mind, "Who's there?"

"Keep calm," I told her. "Try not to react to me; I'm going to get you out of here."

"Get out…."

"Um, pardon?"

"Get out of my head!" screamed the Fiancée. "You're not real! GET OUT!

In the world of the living, the Fiancée began to writhe violently, trying to break loose from her bonds and screaming as loudly as she could manage while gagged. Limbo and the Little Ambassador turned to the Fiancée, stunned.

"Dear Gods, she's having a seizure!" the Little Ambassador gasped.

Limbo quickly rushed to the Fiancée and tried to pull the gag from her mouth, but she jerked away and fell out of her chair and to the floor, banging her head against the coffee table on the way.

"No, stop!" I cried. "You'll never escape causing a ruckus!"

"You're not real! You're NOT REAL!"

By this point the Fiancée had grown hysterical, and I realised that my presence was not helping in the least. I left her in a panic, hoping that the Twister was still preoccupied with Toon-Face. Limbo and the Little Ambassador were tending to her, trying to settle her as best as they could manage. Limbo tried again to pull the gag from the Fiancée's mouth, succeeding this time, and the Fiancée let out a despairing howl. At this rate, the Twister was sure to know that something was up. I was starting to panic. I was desperate for a solution, any solution. I noticed the Fiancée was struggling with the bonds on her hands. With no other solution in my mind, and despite the Fiancée's fragile state of mind, I untied the ropes.

Her hands now free, the first thing the Fiancée did was take a swipe at Limbo, scratching his face with her fingernails. Limbo reeled from the pain and the shock, allowing the Fiancée room to get up to her feet and make a mad dash for the door, pushing the Little Ambassador to the side as she did so. I sped after her, hoping to at least open a safe escape route for her. She barely paid any attention to her surroundings as she made her mad dash for the front door, so I had my work cut out clearing obstacles in her way. We finally reached the front doors and I flung them open as the Fiancée rushed headlong towards them, tripping down the stairs and into the arms of the Scrawny Snooper.

"Wh-whoa, whoa!" Scrawy tried to push the Fiancée off of him. "Relax, I got ya!"

"Let me go, get off of me!" the Fiancée beat him furiously with his fists.

"Reynard!" I jumped into his core, "I need your help, you have to get her to safety!"

"Sissel, what the hell is going on?"

"There's no time! The police should be here soon, but for now I need you to look after her or she's gonna get killed!"

"How the hell am I supposed to do that, she's completely freaked out!"

"Reynard, please!"

Scrawny was silent for a few seconds before letting out a groan, "Fine, I'll get her outta here." He backed away and took a deep breath, "Hey, lady, lady – you ok, what's your name?"

The Fiancée stoped screaming, but she was still very agitated, "S… Sissel…"

"Okay, okay, that's good – you remember who I am?"

"Reynard," I hissed, "What are you doing, get her outta here!"

"Dude, I need her to calm down first," he turned back to Fiancée. "Look, I know you're in trouble, right? How about I help you get outta here." he reached out his hand towards her. "C'mon, I'll get you a coffee, huh?"

The Fiancée shuffled her feet nervously. She slowly reached her hand out towards Scrawny…

Bright flashing lights flooded the area, practically blinding me. Scrawny blinked stupidly while the Fiancée returned to her hysterical screeching. My mind was splitting from the sound of the sirens, and I could see Scrawny was starting to panic too.

"Turn off the sirens!" I heard Lynne's voice not too far off. "I said TURN THEM OFF!"

The sirens switched off and Lynne rushed out towards Scrawny and the Fiancée, but the damage had been done, the Fiancée in such a state of hysterics she could barely stand.

"Miss Sissel," Lynne knelt down beside the Fiancée, "Miss Sissel, do you remember me?"

The Fiancée didn't reply, she had curled up into ball on the ground and was rocking to and fro.

"She just barrelled out the front door and ran into me," said Scrawny.

Lynne blinked, "Reynard? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well uh," Scrawny rubbed the back of his head nervously, "I was following a lead…"

"Lynne!" I jumped in, "Never mind that now, we have to get the other Sissel out of here!"

"Ok, ok," Lynne reached her hand out towards the Fiancée. "It's me, Officer Lynne, remember? I let you pet Jowd's cat?"

The Fiancée eyes were practically bulging out of her head as she stared at Lynne, then she leapt off the ground, throwing her arms around Lynne and wailing loudly. Other officers were now starting to make their way towards us. Meanwhile, Limbo and the Little Ambassador had appeared at the front door, looking very nervous.

"Officer Lynne," the Ambassador came down the stairs towards us. "We spotted this woman roaming the grounds about a half-hour ago. I had my security staff approach her but she fled."

"Lynne, he's lying!" I told her. "The Twister's in there and-!"

"I know Sissel," Lynne replied, "but I can't do anything about that."

"But-!"

"Yomiel's wife is alive and well, and that's all that matters right now. The Twister will have to wait another day."

I was seething, but I knew Lynne was right. The Embassy was a no-go zone and we were powerless.

Lynne turned to the Ambassador, "Will you be pressing charges?"

"No," the Ambassador replied, "she's clearly in a poor state; to pursue legal action would be pointless and cruel." He gestured towards the Fiancée, "Will she be alright?"

"I don't know," Lynne scowled.

The Little Ambassador bit his lip, and I could see the guilt in his face.

Lynne handed the Fiancee over to the waiting ambulance officers, and then turned back to the Ambassador, "Mister Ambassador, if you think to 'remember' anything from tonight, you have my number."

"Of course, Officer," the Ambassador replied. "If you'd excuse me." With that, the Ambassador and Limbo turned and headed back inside.

"Hey, hey, holdup!" Scrawny rushed up to Lynne. "You're not buying this bullshit, are you?"

Lynne shook her head, "Right now, there's not a lot I can do."

"The _hell?!_ Those two are all kinds of shady, and there's nothing you can do?"

"I can't arrest people for just being 'shady', Ren, especially an Ambassador. Or are you seriously suggesting I spark an international incident?"

Scrawny just gritted his teeth and scowled.

"This lead you were talking about," Lynne went on, "I'm willing to bet it came from the Twister himself. Don't you see, Reynard? He's baiting you, screwing with you. Let it go for now, and let the police handle this."

"Yeah," Scrawny sneered, "like I can trust you." He dug his hands into his pockets and stormed off, pushing his way past police and ambulance officers.

Lynne sighed, "Well, that's one down."

"But Yomiel's still at the warehouse," I said. "I have to get over there, now."

"There's a payphone across the street. I got to make a call back to base, anyway."

As the ambulance and police cars pulled out of the street, Lynne took me over to the payphone, and it was with some trepidation that I prepared to travel through the phone lines. The Fiancée was safe, but she was in a very bad way. Yomiel, at the warehouse, was still very much in danger. And then there was Toon-Face – in all the commotion I had nearly forgotten about him, but his uncharacteristic bravery could have very well resulted in him meeting a terrible fate. I was torn – help Yomiel, or try to find Toon-Face? I certainly couldn't do both.

Lynne noticed my anxiety, "Sissel? What's wrong?"

I explained to her how Toon-Face had come to my rescue.

"Seriously? That little creep really did that?"

"I know, right? I was quite shocked when it happened. But that means he could be in serious danger."

"Look," Lynne said thoughtfully, "Ridge and Memry pretty much have Yomiel covered, and they don't have the Twister to worry about. I'll call them and see how things are going and you can look around for Kenshin, if you're up for it. I'm sure Yomiel will understand."

"I still don't like it, but I suppose I just can't leave him," I sighed. "Alright then, I'll go after Kenshin. Please, look out for Yomiel for me."

"I will."

I jumped out of Lynne's core, into the street lamps and back towards the embassy, feeling very uneasy. The chances of Toon-Face escaping the Twister's foul hunger seemed very slim, and I was just as likely to end up on the menu myself. Where to begin? I heard a rattle, and I turned to see a trashcan in the alley beside the embassy. Oh Gods, was it Toon-Face? The Twister? Maybe just a rat? The old idiom 'curiosity killed the cat' seemed very fitting in this situation. I had little choice and switched to the World of the Dead and…

"Please, no more… I don't wanna see any more… it's not my fault, it's not my fault…!"

I felt a weight lift from inside of me as I saw those knotted brows and distinctive moustache, but it was clear that Toon-Face was not in good spirits. Once again, his blank white eyes were scarred with thin scratches, and he was curled up in a ball, rocking to-and-fro.

"Kenshin," I called out to him. "Kenshin, it's me, Sissel. You're safe now!"

Toon-Face jumped up and spun towards me, "Furball? Y-you came back for me?"

"I couldn't just leave you. Besides, I have to thank you for-"

"Oh, thank the Gods!" Toon-Face's scratches once again faded. "I thought I'd been left for lunch!"

"It's okay now, you're safe. But how did you escape?"

"I… don't remember…"

Something about the way Toon-Face said that made me suspicious. I was certain he was holding something back, but given the situation I decided to let it go for the time being.

"Kenshin," I said to him, "do you know how to get back to your son's home?"

"Yeah, through the phone lines."

"Good. Now, I want you to go home," I looked at him, dead in the eye, "and I want you to promise not to run away any more. It's not fair on your son to make him worry like that."

Toon-Face sighed, defeated. "All right, I hear ya. I'll go and let him know I'm okay."

We both headed for the payphone, and Toon-Face set himself on course towards the Scrawny Snooper.

"What about you?" Toon-Face inquired.

"I still have work to do," I replied. "An old friend of mine is in trouble. And Kenshin, thanks for your help. I could have never rescued that girl without your aid."

Toon-Face didn't reply. He silently sped off down the phone line, looking somewhat dejected. With that out of the way, I made for the warehouse, hoping that Yomiel was okay.

Once again the darkness of night was disrupted by flashing lights of red and blue. I saw him, sitting in the back an ambulance, alive, but in very bad shape. Yomiel looked like he had been through hell, his face bruised and bloodied. A paramedic tried to tend to him but he kept fighting him off.

"My wife," he groaned, "I – I want to see my – oh gods, Sissel!"

I quickly leapt to his core, "It's okay, Yomiel! She's alive, she's out!"

Yomiel blinked stupidly as he took in the news, "You really…? Sissel, I… I don't know how to thank you…"

"Just relax and let these guys patch you up, okay? It's going to be alright."

Yomiel let out a pained sigh, his gaze distant, "Gods, Sis, I wish could believe you…"

I very nearly protested, but as I thought it over, I realised Yomiel had a point – in the short time I had known her, the Fiancée's personality had changed drastically for the worse. Then there was the Twister's interest in the pair – the head in the mail, and kidnapping now. I seemed like a grotesque coincidence that of all the people in the world the Twister had chosen to torment, he'd chosen my old friend. And then I wondered, could the Fiancée's mental state really be another coincidence, or was it related somehow? I thought about her mysterious core, about her bizarre misfortunes at the Chicken Kitchen. And then, I remembered the day the Twister had possessed Jowd and abducted Cabanela, and that chilling boast he had made.

"_But when you can bring that person back to life and prolong the entertainment, well! Since they remember everything, it has quite an interesting effect on their mentality…"_

I tried to put the thought from my mind – my main concern right now was Yomiel's health, "You're hurt."

"That Beauty – I recognised her from last time," Yomiel explained to me. "As soon as I saw her I knew she'd find the wire, and that really pissed them off. I thought they'd kill me for sure, but they didn't."

"You mean they let you go?"

"I heard them talking in their language – I'm not fluent in it, but do remember some stuff from last time. From what I could understand, they were ordered to keep me alive," Yomiel buried his head in his hands. "Sissel, what the hell is going on? Why are _they_ back; who the hell is this Twister guy and what the fuck does he want with me?"

I gave the only answer I could, "I'm sorry Yomiel, I don't know. I honestly don't know."

"He knew, Sissel, goddammit, that bastard _knew_."

There was silence for a moment, before I spoke again.

"Yomiel," I started, "there's something you should know…"

I proceeded to explain as best I could about what I had seen that night at the Chicken Kitchen, and of the Fiancée's mysterious core. Yomiel brow furrowed as he tried to process what I had told him.

"The hell," he muttered, "Sissel, what the hell is going on?"

"I don't know. I wanted to tell you earlier but…"

"Do you think… that guy…?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, it seems likely," I said, "Yomiel, I hate asking this but, is it possible that the Twister is someone you know?"

"If he is, I wouldn't know," he replied, his voice breaking. "I don't know what I did to piss this guy off, dammit, I just want things back to normal…"

I was interrupted when the Bereted Detective rushed up, "Mister Yomiel, good news – she's out!"

Yomiel said nothing – his face was pale and it seemed his strength had been drained from him.

"There's nothing much we can do now," I said to him, "but we've won this battle – you should go see her."

"Sissel, you… gods, I can't thank you enough…"

I left Yomiel's core as the Bereted Detective guided him towards the payphone were Memry was waiting, the receiver to her ear. She was talking into it nervously, a hand over her mouth to hide was she was saying and she seemed tense.

"Memry?" the Bereted Detective walked up to her. "He wants to talk to her."

"Well, uh, he can't," Memry whispered harshly. "We kinda have a situation…"

"Whaddya mean a situation? I thought Lynne called to say the girl was safe?"

"Well she is, but, she, well…"

Yomiel was starting to notice something was off, "What's going on?"

"Uh, nothing!" Memry replied cheerfully, "Just slight problems with connections, that's all!" she yelled into the receiver, "What was that you said boss? I can't hear you, you're breaking up!"

The Bereted Detective grinned sheepishly and walked back to Yomiel, "Look, your wife's fine, so let's head to the hospital and…"

But Yomiel just roughly pushed past him, and snatched the phone off Memry.

"No, wait!" Memry tried to grab back off it him, "sir, now is really not a good time."

Yomiel ignored her, his knuckles white as he put the phone to his ear, "Sissel? Sissel? It's me, Yomi, are you alright?"

I could hear noise from the phone, the sound of two people. I saw Yomiel's expression fall as he listened to the commotion on the other end of the line. I knew whatever was going on over there, it couldn't be good. I had to see for myself.

The phone on the other end of the line was dangling off its hook. Lynne was desperately negotiating with a clearly agitated Fiancée.

"Please, Sissel, your husband just needs to know you're okay," Lynne pleaded. "I know you've been through a lot tonight, but—"

"No, no, no!" Sissel hunched over, covering her face with her hands. "I-I don't want to, I don't want to!"

"Sissel, please-"

"He'll kill me!"

"We'll make sure the Twister can't find you," said Lynne. "we can move you and your husband to a safe place-"

"Yomiel's trying kill me!" Sissel wailed. "I saw it, he'll kill me – he'll kill me!"

Shocked by this accusation, I returned to the other end of the line to question Yomiel as to what this meant. But when I returned, just one look at him told me all I needed to know. He had slumped to his knees, his head in his hands.

He was crying.


End file.
